Heart's Keeper
by little-morph
Summary: Hermione's missing, but her disappearance has nothing to do with Death Eaters. When Aurors fail to find her, Severus is allowed to use any means necessary to retrieve her. He underestimates the warnings of the Spell he is about to use. Rape/non-con
1. Chapter 1

Damn, he was late. Well, only by a few minutes. Nobody would be missing him anyway. Besides, watching the new first years to be sorted wasn't such a big event anyway.

So, Severus Snape slowed his ascent of the stairs to accommodate his still aching and tired body. He had been summoned by the Dark Lord almost daily, and then sent on missions to recruit new followers or to one or the other opponent disappear.

These errands were merely time-consuming and led to sleep deprivation – but that he could deal with. No, it was the new advanced training methods, the Dark Lord had so cunningly introduced that had done him in, he thought sarcastically.

Gruelling duels between the Death Eaters under the Dark Lord's supervision that went on for hours.

Snape had tried not to appear too powerful, less his Master felt threatened by him. So he was the unfortunate receiver of numerous painful, humiliating and disfiguring curses. Not only was hit attacked by his many opponents, of which there were up to five at the same time, but also by the Dark Lord himself when he saw the need to show his displeasure with his once most formidable duellist.

Snape was still one of the best among the Dark Lord's ranks but in a more conspicuous way.

Well, now that the school year had started, he was hoping for a little reprieve from the summons; he really needed some time to recover. Even Poppy could hardly keep up with his many appearances in the hospital wing. She was probably sick of seeing his battered body on an almost daily basis.

Even if the summons lessened, he still had his many school duties to attend to. No – recovering time will be hard to come by. He was probably looking forward to the weekends as much as the students, he thought with a wry smirk.

He put a more neutral expression as he reached the Great Hall and noticed that he was only ten minute late. It seemed to be rather quiet behind the closed doors, which probably meant that the sorting was in full swing.

He breathed deeply before opening the small teacher's door right behind the head table, and slipped quietly into the room. He tried to hide his slight limp, but needn't have bothered, as no teacher or student even so much as glanced in his direction as he made his way to his seat.

Only his iron self-control allowed him to swallow a relieved moan of pleasure as he sat down, allowing his aching limbs to recover.

The sorting was almost finished, he noticed, but concentrated nonetheless on the remaining new students. Only one boy among the handful was sorted into his own house, but it didn't matter that he had missed the others as he would see them all later in the common room.

Fixing his eyes on a far point on the far side of the Great Hall, he let Dumbledore's usual speech wash over him, not even noticing when food appeared in front of him. Not even the appreciative hum of hundreds of students brought him out of his near trance.

He stared doggedly at the wall, his vision swimming before his eyes, not disturbed by the sudden silence his found himself in. Only the sounds of eating and the occasional chatter and laughter flitted through the air, yet the only things Severus concentrated on was to breath through his lingering pain and trying not to fall asleep.

A gentle nudge from Minerva brought him back to his senses. "Severus, you should eat something, you're only skin and bones," she said. Her concern was evident in her face and voice.

Half-heatedly he put some mashed potatoes and a few vegetables on his plate and stuffed the first tiny bite into his mouth. He couldn't deny that his body hungered for sustenance, but his aching jaw and wrists, which were still recovering from having been broken, made eating a rather unpleasant task.

He managed to shovel a few spoonfuls into his mouth, seemingly satisfying Minerva. As soon as she looked away, he gave up eating and let his eyes roam over the room. Seeing the Golden Trio did nothing for his mood, but at least the irritation he felt kept him from nodding off.

There was Potter, bane of his existence, and his idiotic sidekick Weasley. And of course the bushy-haired beaver that… that wasn't even there, he finally noticed. Severus scanned the entire Gryffindor table, but Granger was nowhere to be seen. He felt some mild concern, no, curiosity, he amended mentally.

That rule-breaking little chit was probably too good to come to the Sorting. She might have hauled herself up in the library already. He grimaced as he had to admit that she would behave like that. At least, he thought she wasn't like that. Well, in truth, he had no idea what she was like…

What he knew, though, was that the library was still locked, and she had no chance of getting into it even if she tried. Then again, the trio was known to beark rules if they saw the need for it, perhaps she had found a way into it anyway…

Snape faintly shook his head, trying to end these thoughts that only sent him deeper into a labyrinth of presumptions and unanswered questions.

As he looked closer, Potter and Weasley seemed to be looking up at Dumbledore occasionally, looking rather worried. Something was going on; but before he could think about more likely scenarios, a cramping pain shot up his left arm and leg, leaving his head devoid of any thoughts.

He gasped audibly and felt the eyes of his colleagues on him. Cradling his arm, he limped out of the Great Hall as fast as his screaming muscles allowed him to. He dimly heard the students whisper his name, realising that he must have gasped louder than he thought.

As soon as he was outside, he closed the door with his back and slid down the wall right beside it. He hissed at the pain that still lace through him and bared his teeth unconsciously.

Only moment later, Poppy and Minerva emerged through the same door.

"I'm fine," he said automatically to keep them away from him, before they even had a chance to enquire about him.

"Yes, crouching on the floor is normal for you," Minerva said wryly and knelt down next to him. Poppy did the same on his other side.

"Let us help…"

"No," he hissed and groaned quietly as his leg jerked involuntarily due to the Cruciatus-induced cramps.

"Grow up, and learn to accept help, Severus. Now give me your arm."

He had nothing to put against Minerva's insistence, and he was loathing every second of sitting on the floor helplessly. He unfurled from his rolled up position, letting the women take an arm and a leg respectively.

Expertly, they stretched his limbs, making his bang his head against the wall as even more pain made it difficult to keep from whimpering. He opened his eyes when he felt a vial against his tightly shut lips and he swallowed the given potion without caring what it was.

Judging by the softening of his muscles it must have been a muscle relaxant.

"I wish we could give you a pain reliever," Poppy lamented and stroked his leg one more time.

"Hmm," was all he said. The worst of the cramps were gone but his muscles felt raw and ached.

"I still believe that the resistance you've developed must be temporary; no wonder when you've been relying on it for several months and on an almost daily basis," she continued.

Severus had nothing to say and still sat quietly with a mild frown on his features. It wasn't the first time they had discussed the almost non-existent effect the pain-relieving potion had on him. He could still use salves and ointments – everything that only required external application.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the worst was over.

"Better?" Poppy asked, quite used to his reactions.

He nodded and made to get up but was startled by a kiss to his forehead. He blinked into Minerva's face, but before he could say anything, the two women helped him to his feet.

"Can you make it to your rooms?" she asked and wasn't angered when she was shrugged off a little impatiently.

"No need, I'll head straight to the common room to welcome the newest batch of unruly cretins," he told them and grinned a little sat the women's eye rolls.

"I thought your Slytherins can do no wrong," Minerva harrumphed.

"I never said so, but at least my students show up for the sorting. You, on the other hand, seem to have lost one of your rule-breaking cubs already," he drawled, referring to the missing Granger girl.

Minerva's wry smile vanished, obviously not finding nay humour in his remark. "Nobody knows where she is; she wasn't even on the train. That's not like her. Even if she had missed the train, we would have received a message from her by now. I'm afraid something might have happened." She looked anxiously at Snape, but if she thought he would give her any emotional support she was wrong.

"She probably got held up by some last minute book shopping, I presume," he said unconcernedly.

"Miss Granger is nothing like that," Minerva said hotly, taking his accusation as a personal affront. "She is highly responsible and she would never…"

"Oh, spare me your motherly defence of the girl," he snapped.

Minerva turned on her heels and went back into the Great Hall.

He didn't call her back. He felt some remorse for his needling; he had only done it to mask his rising concern for the missing girl.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Poppy was still by his side, her eyebrows raised and her mouth set in an odd thoughtful grimace. She said nothing but looked at him expectantly.

"Let me know if you need any competent help," he said with a sneer and quickly walked away, before his rising worry could make him appear even weaker.

He didn't see Poppy smiling at his retreating back.


	2. Chapter 2

Dumbledore sat in his office, massaging his temples. The first day of school, and already he had to deal with, what he hoped to be, only a minor crisis.

During the earlier Sorting, his eyes had found Harry Potter before he had looked at any of the other students, he recalled a little guiltily. Only after making sure that his most important weapon was there and well, he had noticed the absence of Miss Granger.

So had Minerva, judging by the worried looks and gestures she had given him. Miss Granger's two best friends had been trying to get his attention, but he had only signalled them with a raised hand to keep calm and wait until after the feast.

He was just as panicky as them, but he didn't want anyone to speculate wildly and create unnecessary rumours.

The two of them had quickly made their way over to him as soon as the food had disappeared off the tables, and had accompanied him and Minerva to his office.

Now he was listening to the worries and wild accusations of the young men.

"She was going to France with her parents for four weeks," Harry began. "She was supposed to come back two days ago, on Friday."

"Yeah," Ron chimed in. "Usually she comes to the Burrow with us for the last week of the holidays, but she didn't want to do so this year," he added a little sullenly.

"She did not board the train with you then?" Albus asked.

"No, she wasn't there."

"Could she have just missed the train?" Even as he asked, Albus knew that the chances for that to happen were rather slim.

"No way, she always makes her parents leave extremely early to avoid just that," Ron said, now huffing in amusement over, what he thought to be, ridiculous behaviour.

"When did you last see, or hear from her?"

"We both got letters about two weeks ago, from the cottage they own. It was just a normal letter; nothing sounded unusual," Harry exclaimed, worry etched in his face. She was like a sister to him, and loosing part of his family was a nightmare for him.

Dumbledore stroked his beard before getting up and walking over to his fireplace. He knelt awkwardly in front of it, holding his long beard away from the glowing ambers within.

"Severus, could you join me in my office, please?"

As soon as he was on his feet, a dark figure stepped out of the fireplace, barely avoiding running into the old man.

"Should I give you more time to get yourself out of harm's way?" Snape asked with a smirk.

"I can still hex you, young man," the older wizard replied easily, aiming a sweet smile to his Potions master.

Only then did the latter notice that there were others in the room.

Both boys gawked at him, not so much because of his teasing with the Headmaster, but because of his unusual attire. He was devoid of volumous robes and even his frock coat, standing just in black trousers and a black button down shirt.

"You didn't say you had company," Snape said, his earlier humour forgotten. The smirk had vanished, only to be replaced by a scowl that automatically appeared on his face when he was in the company of Harry bloody Potter. He stood next to Minerva.

"It was you," Ron shouted, pointing at Snape, who only raised an eyebrow in response. "We saw you rub your arm earlier in the Great Hall during the feast. You… you went to… him. You took her; you know where she is!" He had left his seat and slowly advanced on Snape.

"Mr. Weasley…" Minerva began, clearly not liking her student's tone, but her younger colleague interrupted her.

"Shut your insolent mouth, Weasley," Severus said with calm superiority. He hated being anything less in the boys' presence, and was silently glad that Minerva had at least come to his aid, and not let the boy get away with such behaviour.

Snape gave Potter one last look, and saw that the young man only regarded him without the usual glare he'd gotten used to over the years, before concentrating on his employer once more.

He had no idea that Harry wasn't any less hateful, but merely intrigued by Snape's slight limp.

Harry rearranged his glasses and wrenched his eyes away from Snape to look at Dumbledore who was speaking again.

"Miss Granger seems to be missing, Severus," he said.

"I know."

Ron, who had sat down on his McGonagall's gesturing, was back on his feet at those words. "Ha, I knew it, he's behind it. He and his Death Eater friends!"

"Mr. Weasley. Sit back down and refrain from making unjustified accusations." Dumbledore halted any further verbal attacks, giving the red-head a very stern look. "If you cannot control yourself, I shall ask you to leave."

Ron sat, but not without giving Snape a last hateful glare.

"Have you heard anything about any plans concerning Miss Granger?" the Headmaster asked the other man.

"Not a word was mentioned about the girl during the entire holiday," Snape replied, a thoughtful frown on his face as he tried to recall his many summons.

Albus nodded with a faint sigh. "Could you please visit the Granger's house tonight, to see if they've come back from their holiday late, or if something else might have happened?"

That was not what Snape had wanted to do with his first night off in weeks, and his displeasure was clear on his face. Surprisingly, Minerva came to his aid.

"Isn't that a job for an Auror?" she asked.

"Normally, yes, but the Ministry will be reluctant to help, and nothing will be done before tomorrow. Severus is well able to recognise any abnormalities or the residue of anything dark," Dumbledore explained regretfully.

"I bet," Ron huffed quietly under his breath, and earned himself a narrow-eyed glare from his Head of House.

Snape's hope to get out of this job was destroyed.

"It shouldn't take you long, Severus. You know I wouldn't ask you, if I didn't think it absolutely necessary," Albus said. "Tomorrow I will ask some Aurors to also check out the Granger's holiday home in France."

With that the meeting was over, and the boys were sent to their dormitory, while the Professors went separate ways.

XXXXX

Snape waited for a few hours until the sun set, not wanting to Apparate into an unknown area in broad daylight.

He had tried to have a little nap during his free time but the impending task didn't allow his mind or body any rest.

He dragged his exhausted body out of the castle to the nearest Apparition point, cursing Dumbledore while he limped across the school grounds.

What had the situation to do with him? He still believed that an Auror should have been sent; he doubted that one more night would make a difference to the girl, wherever she was. He still refused to think about the possibility that the she was in actual danger, simply because he feared what her loss would do to Potter. The boy needed to be stable for the future confrontation with the Dark Lord!

Finally arriving at the Apparition point, he concentrated on his destination and suddenly found himself in front of a spacious detached house. A car was parked in the driveway, but no light was coming from the house.

It was the only house in the entire road that was completely dark and Severus didn't need to go inside to know that it was empty. The thin layer of dust on the car was just another sign of the long absence of the owners.

He felt some jealousy as he was confronted by Granger's apparent easy and comfortable life. His own childhood home was a bloody hovel compared to this luxurious house. He had never outgrown the urge to compare lifestyles, and resenting others for being better off than him.

Right now, he really didn't need such childish thoughts and he stalked up to the front door, ringing the door bell once. He wasn't surprised when nobody opened.

A quiet _Alohomora_ later and he was in the house, feeling like the intruder he actually was, despite the knowledge that he was doing it for a good cause.

He inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes as he took in the scent of the house. This was something that had fascinated him since his childhood – the fact that every house and every family seemed to have a distinct and unique smell.

The Granger residence smelled rather nice, he noticed and kept inhaling the homely scent until he could no longer detect it. Then he set to work.

He checked the entire house for any signs of forced entry or anything unusual. Nothing. Not even the faintest residue of Dark Magic.

The fridge was almost empty, as were the wardrobes and the bathroom. It seemed they had never returned from their holiday.

He walked through every single room, and after hastening out of the main bedroom, due to the vibrator he'd found in a bedside cabinet, he found himself in Hermione's bedroom. Little Miss-know-it-all's bedroom.

He didn't feel as discomfitted as he'd thought, but neither did he want to investigate her bedside cabinet. He really didn't need to know if the girl was sexually active, even if was only with a sturdy rubber toy…

Taking a deep breath, he studied his surroundings more closely. It was a nice, medium-sized room. The walls were painted in a dark and intense yellow, while the floor and the furniture were made from dark wood, much like the rest of the house.

She only owned a bed – queen sized, he noticed with a tiny appreciative smirk, a wardrobe, a desk, that was littered with journals, books and a box of tampons. There was also a huge bookcase that spanned and entire wall, filled to the brim with books.

It was a lovely room, he had to admit. He had never been in a student's bedroom, not even in those at Hogwarts if he didn't need to. It was immensely odd to investigate the private rooms of someone, especially if you weren't looking for clues anymore, but were giving into your natural curiosity.

Add to the natural curiosity your job as a spy, and you end up with a man who slowly examined your wardrobe and your entire bookshelf. Snape spotted fiction and non-fiction, Muggle and wizarding works. What really drew his attention were five thick volumes without a title on the bottom shelf.

He pulled the first one out, only to realise that he now held a photo album in his hands, according to the title on the front.

He warred with himself for the barest of moments, before deciding upon looking through it. His leg ached and so did his back, and he allowed himself to sit down on her bed, instantly liking the feel of it.

He grinned at her taste, not having expected such mature bedding from her. The sheet was black and the covers a deep brown with a few small dark green flowery designs on the corners. All in all, quite tasteful…

He cleared his throat self-consciously, as he realised that their tastes coincided. He really didn't know her at all. But why should he? She was none of his concern, wasn't even in his house…

Before opening the albums, he spotted two framed pictures on her desk. It wasn't difficult to recognise her parents in the first, and Potter and Weasley in the second.

Granger herself wasn't in either of them.

He frowned, then shook his head and opened the album. He had expected family pictures; embarrassing snap shots from her childhood, but what he found was beyond anything he'd ever imagined.

The photo album was filled with pictures from Hogwarts, not the castle itself so much, but photos of students and even the staff.

None of these people appeared to notice that they were being photographed, which made them look less cheery, but felt all the more real.

She had pictured everyday things: students eating, chatting, studying… The list was endless, really. There were even scenes from various classes, and some that looked like detentions. Friendly smiles or even intimate gestures between lovers, hugs between friends, scowls and threats between enemies…

Rather unusual to the more common 'Say cheese' sort of pictures, and oddly entrancing. What surprised Severus even more was the presence of Slytherin students:

Malfoy rolling his eyes at Parkinson's retreating back, a stupid grin shared between Crabbe and Goyle, Zabini deep in thought in the library, Malfoy and Potter throwing looks to kill at each other…

Severus almost laughed out loud at that one. It looked like a scene from a movie. By now, he had scooted further onto the bed, leaning his back against the wall. He turned another page, not able to put the album away, and was confronted with pictures of the faculty:

Minerva looking very much aggrieved in front of Longbottom and a half-transfigured toad.

Snape snorted at that one, knowing that a similar expression must be on his own face during Potions lessons with the boy.

Next, he saw Dumbledore with a sherbet lemon stuck in his beard walking through the hallways, Filch tripping over Mrs. Norris, Hagrid falling backwards into a massive pumpkin, Trelawney's hair tangled into a weird looking device, Sprout smearing dirt across her nose, Poppy scratching her breast through her uniform… And on it went.

Severus kept snickering; he had no idea how amusing the faculty could be. His amusement stopped abruptly when he saw the first photo of himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Is that what I look like? That was the first thought he had when he saw his own sallow face on the picture. He hardly ever saw himself in the mirror, because he couldn't look himself in the eye anymore.

The man in the picture looked… old and about as chipper as a sloth. He seemed to be snarling at some first or second years, looking more fearsome than Severus ever thought he could be. The picture was about six years old, according to the date above it. It could have been Longbottom on the end of his vitriol, but he wasn't sure due to the angle.

If only the child would move a bit… It was then that he noticed that these were Muggle pictures. It was surprising that he hadn't noticed the lack of movement before, and he blamed it on the riveting motives that hadn't needed any animation to be stunning. The stillness made them only more intense.

He rubbed his eyes. Gods, he was tired, but he didn't want to abandon the photo album. He turned the page; the terribly hateful face reminding him uncomfortably of his father. The likeness was terrible and not appreciated in the least.

More pictures of him: At the High Table, only staring at his food. In his class, favouring some student with a glare. Potter perhaps? Out by the lake, squatting by the shore.

When and how had she taken those? He felt annoyance rise steadily as he found more and more pictures with him in it. He felt his privacy invaded.

There he was down in the dungeons, supporting himself on a wall, his face a mask of pain. Another corridor, and himself standing by a window, his ashen face devoid of emotion. The High Table again; himself grasping the table with white knuckles while Poppy looked at him anxiously from the side.

Miss Granger must have used a very good camera, if she managed to take such detailed and clear shots even from the distance.

Admiration warred with irritation, and the latter won out. She was disrespectful, taking pictures without anyone's knowledge or agreement. He would definitely have a little talk with her if – no, when they found her and dragged her back to school. She deserved to be taken down a notch and learn to mind her own business!

He kept glaring at the pictures, rapidly turning the pages until his ugly mug disappeared, only to be replaced by pictures of her.

His earlier anger deflated at seeing her face; he'd almost forgotten her actual appearance. He could describe her to others by naming her most prominent features: her diminuative stature, her bushy hair, her slight upturned nose, her dark amber eyes. That's as much as he could recall of her, but not the finer points.

She looked altogether different to what he remembered. The same hair, nose, and eyes, yes, but he could make out freckles on her nose that he had never seen, and he had never appreciated the arch of her eyebrows, the dainty chin and the soft swing of her eye lashes, the calm maturity her gaze reflected…

He growled mentally as he found himself admiring her - - beauty. Damn, he shouldn't even be thinking the word in relation to a student, but the young woman had a natural beauty about her that he had never recognised, or just never wanted to. Rightfully so, he sneered at himself; a teacher had no business even looking at any student in anything but a professional way.

He closed his eyes to get rid of her image, and only opened them again, when he had replaced his image of her of what he'd seen of her on his classes. In those, she was nothing but an irritating know-it-all.

Resolutely, he turned the page and immediately wished he hadn't. The next picture of her was bigger than the previous once, and judging by the colouring, it might have been taken by a different camera and a different person. It was also the first wizarding photo and it moved.

She was sitting in a dark alcove, just under an arched window; the last orange sunbeams illuminating her hair, making it shine in hues of red and brown. Her legs were drawn up and she was hugging her knees with both arms, while her face was hidden under her masses of hair, resting on her knees.

Only then did she seem to notice the presence of the photographer and she looked up, the light of the setting sun making the tear tracks on her reddened cheeks visible.

Severus stared at the picture, watching the scene repeat itself again and again. It made him uneasy to the see the normally ebullient girl in such distress, and he asked himself what had brought those tears on. It would have been different to see her bawl her eyes out, like Lavender Brown seemed to do regularly over the tiniest things, but this quiet and intense pain that marred her features was oddly touching.

And he couldn't quite deny that she still looked rather stunning in her sorrow. He heaved an aggrieved sigh, as his treacherous mind wouldn't let him ignore her allure.

Well, now that is was in the open, or at least open in the safe confines of his mind, he might as well admit that she had always intrigued him in some fashion. Not many students ever did; nor many adults, come to think of it.

Before he could go into a more in-depth discussion about his thought about her, he yawned heartily, followed by a self-conscious glance around the room, despite knowing that no one had watched him.

With another yawn, he turned the page, sighing softly as he found yet more pictures of crying individuals. He was reluctant to look at them right now, and let his hand turn back the pages until he found the picture of her again, watching her tear-stained face appear repeatedly from under her hair, which seemed to hide a lot of secrets.

He had no earthly idea how long he was looking at it, and he didn't realise when his eyelids failed to open after another deep yawn. The album slid from his hands and landed next to him on the bed.

XXXXX

He woke up the next morning, squinting against the light that came through the window.

Window? Light? This was certainly not his bedroom!

He shot upright, or at least tried to. He got tangled up in the thick duvet which had miraculously found a way to cover his entire body during the night. How did that happen? Had he snuggled into her bedding?

He had actually slept in Miss Granger's bed, he grumbled to himself, not wanting to admit that he had slept remarkably well and quite long by the looks of it. It was six in the morning – he had practically slept in.

Slowly, he got out from under the blanket, which was still draped over him, and climbed out of the bed. He picked up the photo album, which lay innocently on the floor, still tempting him.

Making a rash decision, he shrunk it and put it in his cloak pocket. Before he made his way out of her room, his eyes zoned in on the rest of her albums, and he studied them thoughtfully. Going against all his convictions and reservations, he shrunk and pocketed the last four as well, before hastily leaving the comfort of her room.

He walked quietly on the off chance that the inhabitants had returned, but the house was eerily empty and unchanged. He left the house and made his way back to Hogwarts, all the while thinking up a good excuse for failing to return with his report last night.

XXXXX

Ron grasped the letter his mother had sent him, before shooing tiny Pigwidgeon away again.

He handed Harry the letter that Hermione had sent him during the summer, containing the address of their French holiday home, in case the boys wanted to write back – which hadn't happened.

"This is the letter she sent _me_," Harry noticed, "I thought you asked your mum to sent you the one Hermione sent to _you_."

Ron blushed a little but kept his eyes firmly on the short missive his mum had included. "Yours was the first one she found," he explained and hoped Harry wouldn't ask any more questions.

_Ronald Weasley,_

_Imagine my reaction when I was rooting through your things, only to discover that you have used Hermione's letter to line Pig's cage!_

_That is no way to treat a letter from your friend. Thank Merlin, that Harry kept his own letter in his bedside table, or we would have had trouble knowing the address of the Granger's holiday home that Dumbledore requested._

_If you still think about joining the Order when you are of age, think twice, son! Maturity seems a long way off..._

The letter wasn't even signed, he noticed with dismay. He was only glad his mother hadn't noticed that Ron had used Hermione's letter to soak up his come when he had masturbated over it, his head filled with fantasies over the bushy-haired girl.

Still flushed to the roots of his hair, he joined Harry right after breakfast to give the letter to the Headmaster. Just as they wanted to mutter the password, the stairs began to move, but turned the wrong way.

They thought that Dumbledore might be on the way down to them, but had to see their Potiosn master descending the stairs rather hurriedly.

They ignored each other's presence completely. Once the stairs were free, they rode up the moving stairs, and Ron spoke up.

"Was Snape blushing?" he whispered.

"Nah, must have been a trick of the light," Harry demurred, even though he had wondered the same thing. He didn't want to think about the red tinge to Snape's cheeks, as adults only seemed to blush when it came to sexual matters, and he definitely didn't want to think about Snape in relation to that. Urghh!

Dumbledore greeted them and thanked them for the letter. There was no new information to share and the boys were sent to their first lesson.

XXXXX

Snape hurried through the corridors down to his classroom, with what he hoped was not a blush. He pressed his hands, which were always cool, against his cheeks, hoping to reduce the heat in them.

He stormed into the Potions classroom and strode to his desk, but for once it was pure embarrassment that fastened his stride. In an attempt to hide his, no doubt still warm cheeks, he bent over his desk and sent the recipe for today's brew over his shoulder onto the blackboard.

"Get going," he snarked and busied himself with rearranging a perfectly well stacked heap of essays.

When Potter and Weasley came running into the room he lazily called out, "Five points each," without looking up, and was glad when they didn't even argue.

With the class quietly following the assignment, his mind wandered back to the earlier meeting with the Headmaster:

He had found Minerva in Albus' office and told them both that he had fallen asleep on the Granger's couch after looking through some paperwork, before announcing the complete lack of anything suspicious.

The Headmaster had looked at him a bit too intently for his taste. Thank Merlin for being such a good Occlumens!

With that he had left the office as quickly as possible, not knowing that Minerva and Albus were discussing him.

**Flashback**

"Why didn't you tell him that you went to check on him when he didn't turn up quickly enough?" Minerva asked her employer and life-long friend suspiciously. "He wasn't sleeping, was he?" she went on thoughtfully, watching Albus closely.

"Hmm, asleep, yes," Albus mumbled and twisted strands of his beard with his fingers.

"Albus! Will you tell me what really happened?" she cried exasperatedly.

The old man loved to see her all riled up and ready to explode, but he gave in with a soft smile. "He was asleep, but not on the sofa." He paused dramatically, enjoying the twitching of Minerva's eyelid. "I found him in Miss Granger's bed."

He got the gasp and the shocked expression he had hoped for.

"What was he doing there?" McGonagall asked and couldn't help but imagine some sort of sexual depravity.

Albus sensed where her thoughts were heading and cut them off. "Calm yourself, Min. He wasn't doing anything untoward," he said with a hint of disapproval over her lack of faith in the Potions master.

"He was merely looking through a picture album of hers and must have fallen asleep. It wasn't as if he was curled in her bed, only leaning against the wall. As he looked rather uncomfortable but in dire need of sleep, I levitated him into a better position and covered him up."

"Is there something you're not telling me?" Minerva asked with narrowed eyes and only got a wide smile and a head-shake from Albus. She'd known him long enough to know when he was hiding something, but it would have been useless to pry. With an eye roll she headed to the Floo and left for her classes.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry and Ron were beside themselves with worry. It was Wednesday and they still haven't heard any news about Hermione. The Headmaster seemed unavailable and Professor McGonagall had had enough of their constant badgering.

The news of Hermione's absence had already spread on Monday, the first day of school, when she failed to turn up to any lesson and was not seen in the common room. Harry and Ron had been told to keep everything under wraps and waved everyone's questions away; besides, they had nothing to tell anyway, as they didn't know more than anyone else.

Their last class of the day was Potions and they listlessly entered the dreary room, only to be confronted with Malfoy's cruel comments.

"Hey, Potter, missing your little sex toy? Maybe someone else had a need of her. Mind you, they must be as desperate as you, to do it with a Mudblood," he said loudly.

The Slytherins were vastly amused by his vapid comments, and not a single one of them had shown the slightest hint of caring about the missing girl. The Gryffindors all glowered hatefully at the heartless young man but held their tongues – for now.

Their new found restraint had nothing to do with sudden maturity but with the fact that Snape had just entered the classroom.

He had heard every word from Draco, but despite the tightening of his jaws he registered at hearing the insult, he ignored the whole situation. What else was he supposed to do as a Death Eater? He could hardly take the young man to task without appearing suspicious.

The lesson dragged on without the constant waving hand he was so used to. Every time he asked a question, his eyes would fly over the spot where the Granger girl used to sit, and was met by the sight of a pale Longbottom who seemed even more helpless and desperate without his bench partner.

The others didn't work any harder without Granger coming to the rescue, and Snape realised that she had never held them back by volunteering for every answer, but that they actually had no clue what to say.

He had to admit that he missed hearing the answer from her, it was better than getting no feedback from the class at all. Well, Malfoy occasionally raised his arm to deliver some cocky statement, but Snape tired of his attitude quickly and had no intention of giving Slytherin points every time. It was too easy and boring.

The lesson was nothing but torture, and it got worse as it dragged on. Longbottom was sweating like a pig, as he failed to follow the simplest steps. Snape had been watching his worst student for a while now, his headache intensifying in tandem with the boy's growing agitation. When he heard an actual whimper from the hapless worm, Snape had enough.

With fast strides, he approached the dangerously bubbling potion, Vanishing it with one simple spell.

"For Merlin's sake, boy, without Granger you would have killed yourself or the entire class years ago," he snarled and picked the transpiring youngster up by his robes. "Get out before I forget myself."

Neville fled, perilously close to tears and an accidental emptying of his bladder.

"What a freak," Malfoy snickered, hoping for an indulgent smirk of his teacher, and was shocked when he saw a feral expression directed at him.

"Eyes on your own mediocre potion, Mr. Malfoy," Severus hissed and stomped over to his desk, trying to shut everyone out. All he wanted, was for this day to end and to enjoy a glass of something alcoholic and one of Granger's photo albums on his sofa. Not the he had developed a sudden tendre for her; he simply enjoyed her collected works.

XXXXX

At dinner, a lone owl swooped down towards the Head Table, delivering a letter to the Headmaster. It wasn't unusual to see owls bringing post to the staff, but regular post always appeared after breakfast and not at this late hour.

A sudden hush fell over the entire room, as people waited for the Headmaster to open the missive. They seemed united in their belief that the letter could only concern Miss Granger's disappearance, and not a few of the students expected to hear about her tragic demise. She wouldn't be the first student to disappear or die since Voldemort's return.

To everyone's disappointment, the old wizard got up and turned to leave the room.

The noise in the room rose like a tidal wave and speculations ran amok; hardly anyone was eating anymore.

Harry and Ron got up and made to follow the Headmaster, but Snape positioned himself by the exit and blocked their way.

"If the Headmaster had wanted to share what was in the letter, he would have invited you into his office," he told the enraged boys, relishing their glowers. Now, either get back to your meals or return to your common room."

They shot a pleading glance at their Head-of-House, but McGonagall watched them stonily.

With a muffled curse, Harry shoved past the hated Professor, and thankfully missed the satisfied smirk of the black-haired man. Ron noticed, but didn't have the guts to make a scene in front of the entire school, even though he dearly wanted to. He was still convinced that Snape had something to do with the entire situation.

Minerva asked her colleagues to take over her responsibilities for a while, before she sidled up to Snape. Together they made their way up to the Headmaster's office.

"Do you think the letter contained news about Miss Granger?" Minerva asked the man striding next to her.

"Yes, and it doesn't bode well that he hadn't opened the letter right there and then," Snape replied and noticed how stricken Minerva looked. This seemed to be so much more than a teacher's worry over a student. She seemed to genuinely care for the girl, almost like a mother would for a child. Well, for a grand-child, in this case, Severus thought as he compared the women's ages.

He couldn't quite understand how his colleague developed such strong feelings for a student. He himself had no special bonds to any of the children in his care; he ceased to think about them as soon as they left his classroom.

The only exceptions were Potter, but only due to his important role in the war.

Well, and Granger, but he still didn't like the fact, knowing that his occasional thoughts about her didn't stem from her importance for the outcome of the war. He refused to think about this now, and lengthened his strides.

"Wait up, Severus, my old legs can't keep up with you," he heard Minerva say breathlessly, and the few gentlemanly impulses he had made him slow down again.

"Even Flitwick walks faster than you," he complained, and ignored her disgruntled look.

They soon reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office and said the password.

"Shall I steady you, Minerva?" Severus asked with mock concern and got elbowed into his ribs.

"I'd put you over my knees, if I thought it would make a difference," she said archly and was mollified by his narrowed eyes. He hated being treated like a boy.

Their mild bickering was just stress relief, and they both turned silent again as they neared Dumbledore's office door.

"I was wondering when you would show up," Albus greeted them as he invited them in. "Although, I'm a bit surprised by _your_ continued interest in Miss Granger's disappearance," he added, looking at Snape.

Predictably, the man bristled. "I… You involved me, remember? I can leave if I'm not needed," he said stiffly, and saw Albus' weak twinkle.

"Don't misunderstand me, Severus. I'm grateful for your help, my boy, and I'm afraid I will have to ask for another favour."

Snape seemed mollified by those words, and was actually raring to take part in the search for her, not that he would ever tell anyone.

"Albus, now tell us what was in that letter," Minerva exclaimed.

Dumbledore sighed, and that simple action was enough to alert the other two teachers to the severity of the situation, for Dumbledore rarely sighed.

"I'm afraid I've got bad news. The Ministry wasn't quick enough for my liking and that left me with sending two Order members. I sent Tonks and Shacklebolt to the Granger's cottage in France today." He paused and looked down at the letter lying on his desk. "They found Miss Granger's parents." He looked up at his colleagues and his gaze alone was foreboding enough, but they still needed to hear it.

"They were both dead."

Minerva clapped her hand over her mouth, but Snape aready asked his first question. He wasn't untouched by their deaths, but there was nothing more they could do for them, and their missing daughter was their first priority now.

"Death Eaters?"

"It seems unlikely," Albus said, and got up to guide a shocked Minerva into a seat. "There was no Morsmordre and unless Death Eaters have taken to stealing Muggle equipment and using guns, I'd say we are dealing with common Muggles."

"What about Miss Granger?" Severus asked. The word savages had been on his tongue as he heard that Muggles had been the perpetrators, but who was he to call anyone a savage? He had been killing for fun in his youth. He was just as vile as any common Muggle, if not more so.

"No sign of her. Tonks and Shacklebolt found nothing that could lead us to her."

"No magic signature to trace?"

"No, her wand was found in the house."

Albus penetarting gaze had increased in its intensity and Snape could guess where this was leading.

"Where do I fit in?" he asked calmly.

Albus nodded, not surprised by Snape's intuition. "All known Auror methods have failed to lead us to her, and we are willing to use any means possible to find her. We will turn a blind eye for anything you could do."

Minerva had calmed by now. "You want him to use a dark spell?" she surmised correctly. "This is unfair to him, isn't it? Dark spells always leave a mark on its user."

"I'm already tainted, Minerva," Severus reassured her. "Besides, you keep forgetting that not every spell that is classed as dark actually has negative consequences. The word dark only means that there could be pain or blood involved, nothing more."

"I still don't like it. Dark spell have the tendency to bring unwanted side effects," she said stubbornly.

"And yet, you will not stop me from using whatever I deem necessary to find your precious cub," he mocked.

Minerva looked embarrassed but nodded. "Does that make me a hypocrite?" she asked her younger colleague.

"It makes you a bloody Gryffindor," he countered without his usual harshness, and excused himself to research any possible spells or rituals.


	5. Chapter 5

Snape walked through his quarters and into his bedroom. Tapping the wall above his bed with his wand, the stones moved aside and revealed the dark reminders of Snape's dark past.

Various artefacts, potions, ingredients, photos and books littered the few shelves. He hadn't looked at any of this in years, and had to blow some dust of the tomes he retrieved.

It was no secret among the staff that he had been an active and willing Death Eater in his youth, and it wouldn't come as a surprise that he still was surrounded by dark objects. No one could ever really rid himself of the Darkness, only suppress it or find outlets for it, other than brutality or murder.

He shuddered slightly as he felt the thrum of darkness tingle through his veins, and he suppressed a content moan. He wasn't evil as such, but felt at home among despair, melancholy, anger and loneliness.

He wasn't the only one on the planet to feel like this, but not many allowed themselves to revel in their uncommonness. He didn't bother trying to fit in, never had, and he didn't care about what others thought of him.

He was at home amidst dark thoughts and urges, and had long ago given up to try and change to please others. The only mistake he had made was to delve into dark magic. People like him, those with a predisposition for anything dark, could hardly resist the allure, and it had pulled him under before he had a chance to take a deep breath. It had been a long and painful process to reach the surface again, and it frighteningly easy to get loose himself in it again.

He put the book away for a moment and pulled out one of Hermione's albums from under his bed. He quickly found her crying face again and her sweet countenance served as a calming influence in the face of temptation.

He wasn't sure which spell to use and he needed to read almost every page again, finding long-forgotten and new rituals.

He stopped when he saw something that drew his eye. The ink was brittle and the writing hardly readable.

"Heart's Keeper," he muttered and the title alone almost made him scoff and turn the page.

It wasn't a spell he had ever used and he read it despite his misgivings. It seemed fairly simple and straightforward, if you ignore the possible death for the one to cast it. His own demise was nothing he feared, anyway.

The unwanted beginning fascination he had with her wasn't part of his quick decision to use this ritual… Keep telling yourself that, old man, he mentally scolded himself.

Well, it wouldn't be the worst thing to take that particular secret to an early grave, he reasoned, and closed the book. His plan was decided.

XXXXX

Albus and Minerva were still waiting in the Headmaster's office when Severus Flooed back.

Without words, he handed the small black book to Albus who read the indicated passage.

"That sounds reasonably easy," the old wizard began. "But are you aware that it can cost you your life?"

"Every day I answer a summons it can cost my life," Severus said.

Minerva's bad conscience didn't allow her to keep quiet. "Severus, I know I said I'd let you do anything you need to do, in order to get her back, but that didn't mean I want to see you put yourself in danger. As much as is pains me to say…" she broke off and swallowed heavily. "You are more important in our fight against the Dark Lord," she rasped out and seemingly couldn't believe that she had just said that. "Gods, how callous did that sound?" she croaked unhappily and left her seat to look out of the window. Her shaking shoulders told the man everything they needed to know.

"I won't die," Snape said gruffly. "If the girl just does as I say, nothing will happen, and she was born to follow orders from authority figures," he tried to comfort the crying woman.

"I'm close to hugging your selfless hide, Severus," Minerva said, still facing the window.

"Try it and face the consequences," he retorted sourly, immediately uncomfortable with her gratitude and the possible bodily contact. "So, we presume Muggles have abducted Miss Granger?" He waited for Albus' nod. "If I find them and her, what am I supposed to do with them?"

"Whatever the situation calls for," Dumbledore said seriously, and everyone in the room understood that killing them was a possibility.

"We spoke of possible consequences before. Are there more than your possible demise?" Minerva enquired, finally facing back to the men. She stayed by the window and discreetly wiped her face.

The men looked at each other briefly and shook their heads. Minerva huffed in annoyance.

"Even a toddler would have noticed that conspiratory gaze; now tell me what else could happen," she ordered. When they didn't answer quickly enough, she strode over to them and bellowed in their faces. "You better tell me now, or you won't be able to sit for a week after I'm finished with you."

No one wanted to find out how serious she was, and Albus tried to explain the ritual.

"It's called the Heart's Keeper, and consists of a spell and a potion. Severus had to drink the potion, say the spell and send his… well, his astral projection…" he paused and waited to see if Severus had a better explanation for that part.

But Snape only shrugged and said, "It's all a bit vague."

Albus carried on. "Well, his astral projection will then be transported to wherever Miss Granger is and turn into someone she finds trustworthy."

"Like an Auror or a teacher?" Minerva asked.

"Simply someone she trusts; most likely Potter or Weasley," Severus explained with a grimace.

"The text states that she must take hold of that person's hand, and in the moment she does, Severus' real body will be transported to that destination, merging with his astral projection or his spirit. Once he is with her, he can bring her home, using Apparition or a broom, or whatever is possible."

"I see, and how can that kill you?" Minerva asked, not having forgotten that little tidbit.

Severus sighed at her tenacity. "When she takes a hold of that person's hand she is actually holding my heart," he told her calmly.

"Figuratively?" she wanted to know.

"Literally," he corrected her. "So, if she squeezes too hard or hesitates for too long, leaving my… spirit in limbo, I can die," he finished blandly.

"I see," Minerva said shocked. "Anything else?"

"Only that they might form a bond if Miss Granger turns out to be his Heart's Keeper," Albus added with a smile that seemed a little out of place under the circumstances.

"Highly unlikely," Severus hissed, feeling the heat rise in his face.

"What's a Heart's Keeper? Something like a soul-mate?" Minerva asked quietly.

"NO," Severus spat harshly, feeling actual horror at the mere notion. He was close to discarding the spell and using something else entirely.

"Well, what then?" she asked, studying him thoroughly.

"Gods, woman. It's not… It's all a bit vague," he repeated his earlier words, playing for time. The thought that Granger could be his heart's keeper had been ludicrous when he first read the spell, and he didn't want to think about the possibility.

"Your heart's keeper would be a person who would…" he gulped in distress, "who would treasure your heart, would protect it, and try to never let it break." Gods, he hated to even talk about such sentimental nonsense.

He felt the heat in his face rise further and knew that he looked tense. He made a conscious effort to appear calm and collected, which was harder than he thought, due to the two sets of eyes that scrutinised him.

"Like a lover?" Minerva asked, trying to keep calm herself.

"It has nothing to do with love," Severus said harshly. "Well, it could lead to love the text said, but it could just mean friendship… best friends." He was floundering on a sea of humiliation and he could not stop his tongue under Minerva's penetrating gaze.

"It does not end in m-marriage!" Merlin's hairy toes, now he was stuttering! "You will have found the person who would… who would…" He recalled the many pictures Miss Granger had taken of him and was unable to finish his sentence.

"Severus?" Minerva's voice drew him out of his untimely thoughts.

"The person who would see you for what you are," he rushed out. "It's all humbug anyway. Even if there was such a thing as a Hearts' Keeper, Miss Granger would not be mine! I doubt I'd have one in the first place."

He shot out of his seat and forcefully tugged on the book Albus still held. "Now that we have succeeded in turning this into an unwanted spectacle, we should get on with it for Miss Granger's sake."

The others nodded.

"Now how do I get to France?"

Albus held up a black button. "When you are ready to leave, just say _Sandstorm _and you will be on your way. Tonks and Shacklebolt will be waiting for you."

Snape nodded, turning the small item in his fingers.

"Take care, Severus, and come back safely with her," Minerva said and went to hug the young man.

His eyes widened comically and took a step back to escape her raised arms. Loudly he barked "Sandstorm", leaving two flabbergasted people behind.

"Hmm, he couldn't get out of here fast enough," Dumbledore said with some amusement.

Minerva smiled. "I hope they return to us," she whispered.

They both looked at the empty spot solemnly for a few moments, before looking at each other.

"Did you see him blush?" they asked simultaneously.


	6. Chapter 6

His first thought when landing on French soil was, "I hope I didn't blush too noticeably!", but his hopes for that weren't overly big.

He studied his surroundings, realising that he was only hundred yards away from a cosy looking cottage; the Granger's holiday home. The routine jealousy he would have felt at seeing a property that was so much better than his own house didn't want to come.

He only felt numbness, knowing that the rightful owners would never enjoy their house ever again. His own life hadn't been all peaches and cream, but he had been spared to witness a brutal murder.

He stood on a gravel path that seemed to lead right up to the house, behind him there was an unlit road. He could hardly make out the neighbouring houses, only faint specks of light revealed their presence.

It was fairly dark outside, but the full moon gave adequate light and helped him stay on the narrow path as he neared the house. The salty smell of the sea and the unmistakable rush of waves hitting the shore dominated his senses, and he wished it was daylight to actually see the ocean.

The sea and noises of the local fauna were the only things to bring life to the otherwise silent evening. It would have been peaceful if it weren't for the corpses that awaited him.

As he neared the cottage, tow human shapes could be seen standing by the front door.

"Snape?" he heard a familiar voice.

"Tonks," he replied, not willing to answer with an idiotic, "Yes, it's me."

"Finally," she breathed, and Snape guessed that she wasn't so much bothered about having to wait for him, but the fact that they were closer to finding Miss Granger now. "What do you intend to do?"

"I have discussed everything with Dumbledore and don't want to do it again," he said. "All I need is some of Miss Granger's hair, or blood if you can find some."

"I'm on it," she said and was off.

"Severus," a deep voice rumbled.

"Shacklebolt," was Snape's reply and he sidled up to the other man.

"It's not pretty," the dark-skinned Auror warned and got an amused huff of laughter from the other man.

"That's very considerate, Kingsley, but my eyes have seen pretty much everything under the sky." It wasn't an exaggeration; as a Death Eater he had witnessed the worst of the worst.

"I'm usually surrounded by weeping family members, and this was my standard preparation for the bereaved when something happened," Shacklebolt defended himself.

Without another word, the men walked into the house and Snape saw Kingsley tense even though he must have seen the crime scene before.

Snape walked in first and was immediately hit by the stench of decay. He took in the broken lock on the front door and the destroyed mirror and furniture in the hall. There must have been some struggle.

"When did it happen?" he asked.

"Around a week ago, we reckon," the burly Auror said with a sigh. "Do you need to see them?"

Snape nodded. He didn't actually need to see the dead couple as they had nothing to do with the ritual he needed to prepare, but he had the mad urge to see the people that had produced the brightest witch Hogwarts had seen in centuries.

Without meaning any disrespect, he walked through the puddles of blood that had soaked into the carpet and dried up. He had stepped into far worse during his service to the Dark Lord, and dried blood was not something that made him squeamish anymore.

The couple was lying on the floor, a few feet apart. Mrs. Granger was stretched out by the coffee table, while her husband was lying next to the sofa. Judging by the blood stains on the couch, he had been on it at one stage.

A closer look at the corpses revealed that they had been shot numerous times; the most disfiguring injury was a head wound to Mr. Granger's head, which had ripped off the side of his skull. His face was still intact and Severus bend down to study the dead man.

He had obviously given his daughter his nose and the shape of his chin, Severus realised. Before he could stop himself, he had opened a flaky looking eyelid to see where the girl had her eye colour from, but only felt irrational disappointment when the man's eyes were a dark blue.

Severus could hear Tonks hurry down the stairs and he quickly made his way over to the dead woman, studying her features intently. She had similar hair to her daughter, but the bushiness must have come from another generation altogether.

The shape of her face was almost identical, though, and Severus felt an odd pang in the region of his chest when he noticed the similarity.

Tonks had joined them, and Snape heard her whisper to her superior. "What's he doing?" He didn't hear Shacklebolt answer, and imagined that the man had simply shrugged.

There was no stopping, though, despite the audience, and with a decisive move, he wrenched the uncooperative eyelid open.

Golden-brown… A gorgeous amber – just like Miss Granger's…

He stood in a fluid motion, quickly striding away from the dead and held out his hand to Tonks.

"I found some of her hair. It's quite unique, isn't it?" she said with a weak smile and handed Snape a small glass container with a thick strand of curly hair. It seemed impossibly long.

"Quite," Snape said, still studying the mouse-brown locks, trying to imagine it shine in beautiful reddish hues under the evening sun, like it had done in the photo of her.

He sucked in an irritated breath as he realised where his mind had wandered. This was not the time to daydream; he was here to do a job. And for a moment he wished he never would have gotten involved.

"I also have some blood. It's dried up, of course," Tonks said and held out another little container with dark brown flakes.

"That will do," he said gruffly and took it from her outstretched hand.

"Now what?" she wanted to know, looking at him eagerly.

"Now, I intend to brew a potion."

"Do you think you can brew outside? The smell is getting to me," she asked.

"Use a bubble head charm," was his uncharitable reply, finally feeling more like himself again. He didn't stay in the sitting room, though, preferring to set up his things in the spacious hall; being surrounded by corpses could be a tad distracting.

He enlarged a cauldron and all the equipment he had taken with him. From another pocket he pulled the ingredients, which couldn't have been reduced in size without rendering them useless.

He felt horribly childish and unprofessional – sitting cross-legged on the floor and dicing ingredients on a wooden board that he balanced on one thigh. It didn't help that Tonks had copied his position and sat next to him, watching his process like an excited younger sister.

Shacklebolt stood leisurely against a wall, overseeing the two people on the floor, like a wary parent watching his offspring.

When it was time, Severus opened the small box containing Granger's hair, and after some deliberation, he also added the dried blood. Aftre stirring once, the dark potion changed noticeably.

"Oh, pretty," Tonks remarked, but subsided when she noticed Snape's frown. "Something wrong?"

He only grunted and silently watched the glowing red spiral that twisted slowly through the pitch-black potion. He didn't think he had just ruined the potion by adding both personal ingredients, but knew that this wasn't quite normal. His hand found the lather-bound little book and opened the page he needed.

"My Auror instincts tell me to take this off of you," Tonks said apologetically and got to her feet. She could recognise dark objects with ease and didn't like being in their presence for too long.

Severus ignored her and feverishly read the description again, looking for any mentions of the phenomenon he'd just seen. At the bottom of the page in barely eligible letters stood two lines:

Few have witnes--d the following during the proc—s, glowing manifestations -- different col—rs. Sign of strong b—.

He puzzled over the words, trying to fill in the gaps. The only one he struggled with was the last word. Blood? Backlash? - - Bang???

A snort escaped him and he felt incredulous eyes on him. His mind insistently supplied him with the correct word, and he finally sobered.

_Bond_

It just couldn't be; it must be a mistake. Yes, that's what it was, just an abnormality…

Shaking his head to clear it he studied the page again, and read mreo words that he just revealed by moving his thumb over a dark smudge of dirt.

It read: Possible consequences:

That was it. The rest of the words weren't readable any longer, and wiping his thumb over the dirt only resulted in destroying the last remains of the ancient ink altogther. Great, just what he needed, but it couldn't be helped.

He got up from the floor, flinching slightly at the audible cracking of his knees. Carefully, he levitated the small cauldron out of the house and deposited it on a patch of grass.

"Whatever happens, don't interfere. If things go wrong, you cannot help me anyway." He sat down on the grass and took off his cloak and frock coat; his white shirt gleamed in the moonlight.

"Do not, under any circumstances, touch me!" he said, looking at Tonks meaningfully as he spoke. "If everything goes according to plan, I will disappear, following my… spirit or astral projection to Miss Granger's location. If anything goes wrong, I will be dead within five minutes. Once I drink this potion, there is nothing you can do to help me. Just don't touch me," he repeated, looking at Tonks again.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, Snape, I got it. I will not lift a finger to aid you, and only touch you after you've snuffed it."

Snape smirked. "Good. Kingsley, see to it that she remembers her words."

The other man nodded with a small smile. "Astral projection?" he said dubiously.

"I've never done this before, I'm not sure how exactly this will work," was Snape's reply.

"Hmm, and what about that swirling red thing in the potion?"

"Nothing for you to worry about," Snape muttered, not looking at the Auror.

"I'd feel better, if I'd understand more about how this will work," Shacklebolt remarked. He wasn't criticising Snape, but didn't like being an incompetent bystander.

"As I've said, it's either me disappearing or me dying. Now make space."

He took out a ladle from his pocket and scooped up some of the potion. Automatically, he softly blew on the liquid, even though it was cooled down. As soon as his breath ghosted over the black surface, the liquid rippled softly and faint red sparks ignited within.

"Beautiful," Tonks breathed and hastily stepped back when Severus glowered at her. "Sorry," she whispered contritely.

Severus turned his apprehensive eyes back onto the potion, suddenly swamped with dread. But there was nothing for it; there wasn't enough time to look for a different strategy.

"Ah, fuck it," Snape mumbled to himself and drank as much as he could before the taste made him gag. Hastily he recited the words for the spell, muttering furiously under his breath while trying to keep the nausea at bay. It was a futile endeavour.

He leaned sideways, dry heaving a couple of times. As he had no idea how much to imbibe, he forced himself to drink some more just to be on the safe side.

He clapped a hand over his mouth, hoping to keep the stuff inside. Just as he thought he'd embarrass himself by vomiting in front of his small audience, he gasped deeply as he felt incredible warmth spread through him.

With a sweet and comforting smell of something fruity in his nose, he fell backwards, ending up sprawled on the soft grass. His breathing accelerated and turned into shallow gasps and wheezes.

As Snape had predicted, Tonks made an instinctive step towards him, when she heard the unhealthy noises he produced.

Shacklebolt held her back, keeping her hand clasped in his.

When Severus began to clutch at his chest, trying to claw his way through his shirt, Tonks keened softly in commiseration.

"This doesn't look right," she began and hid her face in Kingley's chest. Neither of them dared to move, but standing there helplessly and waiting for his possible death was torture.

"Will you look at this," Shacklebolt suddenly said, with awe tingeing his soft voice.

"No, I don't think I will," Tonks said but found herself forcibly turned to look at the man on the grass again. What she saw made her gasp.

Snape's frantic movement had stopped and he lay absolutely still, his unblinking eyes staring at the night sky above him. His chest rose and fell steadily. Above him, like a static cloud, hovered a thick red mist, small sparks suffusing it like a beautiful Christmas tree decoration.

"Stunning," Tonks breathed, and didn't notice the indulgent smile of the man who still held her hand.

The next second, the red mist rose and popped out of sight.


	7. Chapter 7

She hardly felt the dampness under her bare skin anymore, and the constant cold had numbed her body to the point of immobility. Exhaustion, pain and hunger had weakened her and she lay listlessly in a puddle of slowly cooling blood that congealed between her thighs. She marvelled at the speed in which her body reproduced the blood she had lost during each torturous meeting with her abductors.

When her mind wasn't screaming in silent terror at her own fate, pictures of her parents' murder flitted across her inner eye, and she was unable to shake off the horrific pictures and the sounds that came with them.

Her own prison was pitch-black and the only thing that stopped her mind from atrophying was her fantasy; too bad she couldn't think of anything but the nightmare her holiday had ended with.

She could still feel the moist bits of blood and brain matter splattering her face, as the gang leader blew her father's brains out with a well aimed shot, but that hadn't stopped the man from shooting a few more times. Her mother got hit directly in the heart, making litres of thick red fluid soak into the carpet on which she fell with a dull thump.

Hermione had long stopped wiping the imaginary stuff from her face and hair, and she hadn't touched the crusty remains of the knife wound that marred her throat, not even when it itched like hell.

Her hand twitched from time to time, wishing for the feel of her slender wand in her fingers, and only felt deep shame and guilt over losing it so quickly. Had she not panicked and lost it after one single kick to the stomach, she might have been able to help her parents.

The constant burning of her eyes was caused by the dry dirt she lay in and not by the sting of oncoming tears; her tear ducts seemed empty, and she had no more salty liquid left to uselessly drop onto the dirty floor.

She heard faint steps above her and curled up a little tighter to give herself the pretence of feeling some comfort. In addition, she closed her eyes, only fleeing from the imposed darkness to the self-imposed one – and she actually felt some repose with that simple action.

She felt weak and close to giving up, her wish to join here parents was becoming stronger with every moment down here. Every minute felt like an eternity; timeless and endless – horrendous and terrifying.

She fled to the memory of her parents again, reliving one of the last conversations she had with them:

They had all sat around the table in the kitchen, eating what they created together for dinner.

"You will be almost nineteen next summer; far too old to go travelling with your stuffy folks," her dad had said with a laugh, despite realising with a pang just how grown up his daughter was.

Hermione had snorted at that. "You're a little late for that warning, dad. I should have stopped going anywhere with you two years ago – it's ruining my street cred if this ever gets out."

"Silly monkey," he'd retorted and laughed along with her mother.

"Oh dear, are we not _cool _enough?" her mother had asked innocently. "We promise we can learn to be _hip_ and _funky_!"

"Gods, help me," Hermione had shrieked, almost choking on her orange juice as her mum had tried to act like a teenager. "That's just scary, mum. Don't tell me you acted like this when you were young."

She had watched on with an indulgent grin, as her parents go tup to dance outlandishly to a French song on the radio, not caring that their food was getting cold.

Two days later, her parents lay dead on the floor of the house they'd spent their family holidays in, since before Hermione had been born. It really did turn out to be their last holiday together as a family…

Her vision turned an odd red and she opened her eyes, still finding something red shimmer in front of her. Whatever it was, it didn't scare her.

Calmly, she watched the red cloud twist and twirl until it suddenly resembled a human form. She really wanted to sit up and inspect it further, but her muscles didn't obey. Her only form of conversation was a dry gurgle.

The figure bent down until Hermione could make out a face. Her lips curved into a mad smile – it looked like Snape.

She was close to death, and her unhinged brain provided her a vision of her Potions master. How… quaint! If this was Death greeting her, he sure had a sense of humour!

"Miss Granger?"

Gods, it even sounded like him!

"Fhh…sss," was all she got past her dry lips, and she wasn't sure if he had understood her polite greeting. But _Professor _really was a bit beyond her abilities right now.

"Miss Granger," the voice said with some urgency now. "I will get you out of here. All you have to do is take my hand."

She eyed the misty appendage, and looked back at the concerned face. She wasn't sure what her mind was trying to tell her by providing this weird scenario.

"D…die?"

The concerned expression on misty Snape's face turned into a frown. "No, you won't die. I won't let you. Potter and Weasley need you. I… people need you. Now take my hand!"

Still she didn't move. Harry and Ron… She hadn't thought about them, for once too selfish to think about them when all she wanted was to end this hellish nightmare and join her parents.

"Want to… die," she slurred and closed her eyes, wishing for Death to stop playing with her mind and take her away.

"Hermione Granger," the see-through Snape said urgently, waiting for her to open her eyes.

Tiredly she looked back at him, and found him squatting next to her, his face flickering like a damaged light bulb.

"Take my hand, please. If you don't, I'll die. I'd rather get you out of here and kill whoever is responsible for your situation."

Hermione was confused; what was Death trying to accomplish? Was this a test? Did she have to try and save this fake Professor to allow her to enter the beyond?

In slow motion, she lifted her arm, shaking from the strain.

"That's it. Just hold my hand, I'll do the rest," Snape said urgently, his voice getting fainter. "Come on now. Take my hand!"

She felt her hand connect with something; but it felt like falling through thick vapour. As a child, she had always wondered what it would feel like to touch a cloud – touching this misty hand was exactly what she had imagined!

As she marbled at the softness that caressed her injured hand, the mist turned more and more substantial, until she felt warm flesh against hers. Her initial reaction was to jerk away at the unwanted felling; she had quite enough of a man's insistent hands on her body.

However, the Professor's hand trembled in hers, and she saw the reddish mist disappear as his body solidified. His face was a mask of pain and she tried to pull her hand back, scared of causing him any discomfort that was big enough to make him grimace.

"Don't… let… go," he pressed out, and she obeyed. "Never… let go."

He sank to his knees and she couldn't help but caress his hand. Her fingers moved clumsily, but neither seemed to care.

With a desperate gasp, the man bent double until his dark hair touched the floor. The red glow about him was almost gone, and darkness crept up on them.

In a last attempt to give whatever comfort she was capable of, she pulled his surprisingly heavy hand towards her chest, cradling it gently against her heart. She jerked weakly in fright, when her fantasy Snape keened loudly, and cried out herself as she was plunged in darkness, as the crushing weight of her Professor buried her under him.

The last thing she heard before she fled into unconsciousness was a whispered, "Good girl."

XXXXX

Many miles away, Tonks jumped forward in shock and surprise when the previously seizing body of Severus Snape suddenly vanished.

"Does that mean it worked?" she asked worriedly. She wanted both Hermione and Snape back.

"I hope so," Kingsley sighed. "I really wish he would have been a bit more forthcoming with his explanations! What are we supposed to tell Albus if he doesn't return? _'Sorry, Albus, we waited stupidly for hours, but he never returned from wherever he vanished to…'_"

Tonks patted his arm consolingly and sank down onto the grass. "Are we waiting for the red mist to reappear or will he be his glorious snarky self when he comes back?"

"I don't care, as long as we can bring _something_ back to Dumbledore, even if it is only a jar of swirling colourful mist," Kingsley replied and sat down, as well.

She leaned her head against the shoulder of her partner, who had worked with her for so many years, waiting for something to happen.


	8. Chapter 8

He tried to say 'Help,' but he was too drained to say anything, let alone stay upright with his naked burden in his arms.

Severus wasn't unconscious and tried not to bury the girl under him as he neared the grass with alarming speed. He managed to fall on his back, feeling Hermione's lifeless body gently bounce on his chest. He lifted his head under enormous strain and was met by the sight of her moonlit breasts that jiggled slightly with every move he made. He could have enjoyed the sight more without the blood crusted injuries that covered her entire front.

Her face had disappeared under her impenetrable hair and one of her arms was resting against the side of his face. When he lifted his head he could almost pretend she was caressing his face.

Glorious…

If it weren't for the fact that she was fighting for her life.

Tonks and Shacklebolt dashed to the Potions master as they saw him appear out of no where, only to collapse to the ground.

"You found her," Tonks cried and tried to disentangle Snape's arms from Hermione. "Kingsley, take her back to Hogwarts, I'll take care of Snape and follow you."

Shacklebolt only nodded and picked up the young woman, trying not to look too closely at her body; especially not the dark smears between her legs. In all his years as an Auror he had never carried someone to safety in his arms, or at least no one nude. It was procedure to first cover the victim and then Levitate them away.

There was no time to dwell on this now, and he Apparated with her to Hogwarts, sprinting towards the castle with fast strides. His Patronus flew in front of him, alerting the Headmaster and hopefully the nurse.

He was too out of breath to thank the gods, when he saw several people rush towards him as he neared gate.

"Tonks will… bring… Snape," he managed to say, hoping they understood him between his loud huffing and puffing.

"Oh gods," he heard Minerva McGonagall say as he came close.

"Poppy is waiting in the infirmary," Dumbledore said. "Shall I take over?"

Kingsley only shook his head, his chest heaving too get more oxygen into his lungs. He made a mental note to increase his personal fitness program; it wouldn't do to be close to a heart attack after a bit of running. His spell work and reaction time were up to par, but simple things like running could prove to be is downfall.

The stairs didn't seem to end, as he jogged up the many steps and turned many corners until he finally entered the Hospital Wing.

"Bring her here," Poppy exclaimed and pointed to the first bed by the door, the closest to her office and the potions store.

Gently, Kingsley deposited his burden and wanted nothing than to lie down somewhere as well to recover. Poppy's next words made that impossible.

"Now out with you," she told him without taking her eyes of her patient. It wasn't often that she had to deal with emergencies and it was a challenge for her skills. "All of you," she said harshly when she heard more people mill around the bed. Not waiting for them to comply, she hastily drew the curtains on one side.

Albus left without complaint, not at ease with seeing a naked young student, and went to wait outside. He sat down next to the panting Shacklebolt and waited with his questions until the poor man had stopped wheezing.

Minerva disregarded Poppy's order and quietly sat on a chair a few yards away. She knew better than to get in the matron's way, but she could not leave Hermione's side. That her student was nude didn't bother her in the least; her anatomy wasn't anything she'd never seen, after all. Nevertheless, she did her best not to look at the intimate injuries Hermione had sustained, which were all too noticeable.

Poppy looked at her sharply for a second, but didn't shoo her out.

"Wash her, so I can see her injuries better," she said and heard Minerva push her chair back hastily to help. Without another word, the two women set to work.

XXXXX

Still in France, Tonks had a hard time getting anything useful out of Snape, whose words were lulled and in no apparent order. She had only asked him what had happened and it had loosened the normally quiet man's tongue.

She ignored his ramblings and gave him a quick check over with the rudimentary spells she'd learned as an Auror. It quickly became clear that Snape was just drained, but she could not understand his heartbeat, which seemed completely arrhythmic.

"Come on, Snape, let's get you back," she said and saw him finally close his eyes as she heaved him up into a standing position. He hung there limply, and she Apparated as quickly as she could, before she dropped him. Their landing was less than ideal, due to the complete lack of help from him, and the sheer distance they had to cross to get to Scotland.

Finally able to Levitate him, she proceeded off to the castle, noticing that Snape was once more staring at the sky, his lips parted slightly.

They reached the infirmary and she smiled at the two men waiting outside the doors.

Kingsley raised a tired hand in greeting, whereas Dumbledore stood with a worried frown.

"What happened?"

"I wish I knew. Snape didn't tell us much about what would happen beforehand. Let's just say he vanished first, and then he came back with Hermione in his arms. He's completely drained," she explained.

"Bring him inside, please," Albus said and used the opportunity to follow, his eyes firmly on his incapacitated Professor.

"What's wrong with Severus?" Poppy asked, while moving her wand erratically over Hermione's body, and at the same time shielding her from view.

"I don't know. His magic is quite drained and he was rambling nonsense earlier. Then he shut up and has been staring at the sky since then… and the ceiling now," she said after one last look at Severus. Tonks brought the man floating next to her into the bed next to Hermione.

As soon as he was stretched out on the narrow bed, he turned slowly onto his side, his eyes now fastened on the unconscious girl beside him. To Poppy's shock, Hermione's hand twitched and her arm rose weakly in Snape's direction, only to flop down again.

"Everyone out now," Poppy scolded the people around her, and she was relieved when she could work in relative peace and quiet. She worked on Hermione a little longer until she found her stable enough and dashed over to Severus.

"Stop looking at her," she scolded him softly, but noticed that his eyes didn't roam over Hermione's naked flesh but seemed fastened on her face. Minerva, who had been sitting by his side, moved to make space for her. After less than a minute she nodded to herself, sure that his condition wasn't anything to worry over. A good night's rest and some strengthening solution, and he should be fine again.

"Whatever had been wrong with his heartbeat must have sorted itself out; it's definately back to normal. Minerva, go get a Sleeping Draught from the cabinet, and give it to him." She already hurried back over to her other patient and closed the curtain completely, even shutting McGonagall out. "Take off his shoes and tuck him in when he's asleep," she called and went back to work.

"Of course," Minerva said and rushed over into Poppy's office to find the potion. Giving it to Severus turned out easier than expected and he simply drank the small amount when she told him to. It was the first time she'd ever seen him so compliant.

He was still looking at the closed curtain behind which Hermione lay, until his lids slid shut and he drifted off to sleep.

Minerva tenderly tucked the adult man in, experiencing a motherly concern for her younger colleague she didn't feel for just anyone. She took a seat behind his bed and stroked his stringy hair, warily watching Poppy's shadow dance around the unconscious student with a raised wand, looking like the proverbial evil witch. The only thing missing was a mad cackling!

XXXXX

Her natural instinct upon waking was to stretch deliciously and yawn, but the short week of living in captivity had taught her to keep absolutely still and quiet. And so she remained immobile as she tried to ascertain the changes around her.

There were no voices or footsteps above her, and it felt warmer, dryer and softer. Her body still ached but she didn't feel quite as close to death as before.

The first thing she noticed when she dared to open her eyes, was the flickering light near her head. Slowly she turned it and heard the rustle of cloth. Craning her neck, she saw and smelled the crisp starched sheet that covered her.

The smell was familiar but her tired mind didn't let her think about it – the only thing she cared about was the feeling of safety that cocooned her.

With utmost care, she tried to sit up, wincing at the pathetic quivering of her weak muscles. Turning towards the lit candle on her bedside cabinet, she finally made out the all too familiar walls and arched windows of the infirmary. Poppy's office was dark and the weak light of the rising sun shone through the windows behind her back.

She was back at Hogwarts, it seemed. It could be just another hallucination like the one of Professor Snape she'd encountered in teh cellar, but she had felt worse then than she did now, which probably meant that she really was back in the castle.

She was alive.

She was alone.

She was an orphan.

"Please, no," she whispered to herself and fell back onto the bed, feeling hot tears run down her face, the salty liquid stinging one or more of her numerous cuts.

Had she looked to her left just once she would have seen a very real Severus Snape, who had watched her since she'd woken up; mindful not to make the slightest sound or move a muscle.

She might not be overjoyed to be back, but he certainly felt a weight lift off his chest at the sight of the very much alive bushy-haired marvel. His relief was just a little marred by the odd tension in his chest, that increased at the sight of her tears and the sound of her soft sobs. He grimaced uncertainly - could that feeling be... compassion? If it was, then all the people, especially those self-righteous Gryffindors, that were always preaching about empathy, kindheartedness and commiseration for others must be liars. No one would want to live with this tightness in their chests!


	9. Chapter 9

Snape woke with a full bladder, and he immediately climbed off the bed as was his wont. Once he was awake, he had to get up, especially with an adamant bladder rushing him.

He purposefully ignored the witch still sleeping next to him, which was harder than he thought possible, now that the privacy curtain had been removed. He silently walked to the nearby bathroom, barely stopping himself from tip-toeing to be extra quiet.

He did his business and braced himself for returning. This time he couldn't help but look at her, his treacherous eyes apparently easier to sway than his mind.

Her hair had been returned to its healthy bushy state, and thick strands of it hung across her face. She was curled up on her side, and he was reminded of his trance-like state when he'd been under the influence of the potion. She had looked just like that: cowering in fear and in search for warmth and comfort.

He scowled without noticing and opened his bedside cabinet in search for his clothes. His eyes refused to look away from her for too long, and he ended up inspecting the inside of his cabinet by touch, with only one hand – which encountered nothing but air.

He growled as he realised that the nurse must have hidden his shoes somewhere else. Not wanting to wake Poppy to ask for his bloody footwear, he warily sat on the edge of his bed, crossing his arms as he scrutinised his student.

When she suddenly twitched and whimpered almost silently, he threw himself onto his bed, in hopes of not being found watching her, or worse, having to aid her in her distress. It was better to hide, fake sleep and wait for her moaning to disappear. The last time he had done such an idiotic attempt to hide in such a fashion, was when his room mates had interrupted him during a bit of self-pleasuring by coming back earlier from their Quidditch practise.

Tensely listening to her sounds, he noticed that she was quiet again and he found it safe to turn around once more. He visibly flinched in surprise when amber eyes calmly looked back at him.

"You're awake," he said unnecessarily, a little unnerved by her silent regard.

"Water?" she asked with a voice that rivalled sandpaper in its roughness.

He was close to calling Poppy for that unwanted task, and grimaced in indecision before giving in to her wish.

"Fine," he spat, as if she'd pestered him for hours. He filled the glass on his nightstand and stepped closer to her, holding it out to her.

When it was clear that he wasn't getting any closer, she tried to sit up, squeaking softly at the pain that raced through her.

He made another step towards her, watching her closely, as if she might pounce on him any second, even though a snail would have moved faster than her. The thin, deep-pink scar that adorned her throat was easy to make out if the candle light. The rest of her petite body was hidden under a flimsy and ugly hospital gown, only revealing her forearms and naked legs.

She raised one arm, willing it to stay upright and function properly. Biting her lip in fierce concentration, she reached out, but instead of grasping the proffered glass, her hand made a beeline and aimed towards his chest.

They were too far apart to actually make contact and both watched with big eyes at the hand in between them. He didn't ask her to explain herself, as he was far too busy with not giving into the soft pull he felt in his chest and leaning forward. Not knowing what else to do, other than to flee, he pushed the glass sideways, forcing it into her hand. It seemed to do the trick and she wrapped her small fingers around it, slowly bringing it back towards her.

She didn't blush, she didn't even look discomfited by her previous action, and concentrated all her energies onto drinking. Water splashed over the rim as it shook badly on its way to her pale lips.

Severus scolded himself mentally for filling it almost to the top, and made up for it by holding it steady with two fingers underneath. He doubted she noticed his altruistic act, seeing as she didn't even glance in his direction.

He held the glass until she had swallowed the first hesitant sips and gripped it harder when a sudden coughing fit almost made her drop the glass. Seemingly unaware if his presence she brought it to her mouth once more, and he felt safe in letting it go and taking a step backwards.

Leaving would have been acceptable and wholly expected by now, but he stayed rooted to the spot, trying to merge this frail Granger to the one he knew. It wasn't a pleasant comparison.

He noticed the glass slip from her weak fingers, and stupidly watched it tumble to the floor in slow-motion, making no move to halt its impending doom. It shattered noisily.

Poppy would have his hide for disturbing her rest, and he picked up his wand to Vanish the mess. Just as he was about to say the word, he noticed a drop of red land in the clear puddle and then another. Following its source he found the blood coming from between her legs, steadily dripping over the edge of the mattress.

"Sorry," she said quietly and lay down again, closing her eyes peacefully.

"Poppy!" he shouted and heard her sprint out if her office, before he had finished speaking.

"What are you doing, Severus?" she hissed and took in the scene, not making heads or tails of it. "Shoo," she said, as if trying to get rid of an annoying cat.

"Where?" he asked stupidly, wondering where she hid his boots.

"What where?" she asked, looking at him strangely.

"Where are my shoes… my cloak, my frock coat?"

"Shoes are in my office, but you came in with only that shirt," she said, wanting him to leave her to work.

"Probably still in France. Tonks really is incompetent at times. No matter, I have other business to attend there!" He muttered those words to no one but himself, already fleeing the infirmary.

He didn't stop to search for his boots and walked straight down to his quarters, not caring that he only had socks on. He hadn't felt so out of sorts in a long while.

XXXXX

She was squinting at the brightness that greeted her the next time she woke.

"Hello, dear," the well-known voice of her Head-of House greeted her. "We're so glad you're okay. You really had us worried."

This reception felt so different to the one she had from Snape last night and it felt oddly unreal and over the top.

"Come on, Miss Granger, time for your potions," the nurse said and lifted Hermione's head. "No more sitting up without my permission and help, young lady. You gave me quite a fright last night. I don't know that Severus was thinking."

"He just helped," Hermione immediately defended him, water dribbling down her chin as she spoke without swallowing first. She didn't mind and limply hung over Poppy's arm, perusing her visitors.

Dumbledore was there, too, and he smiled grandfatherly.

Hermione felt no wish to smile back. Her mind was a little clearer than just hours before, and it was abuzz with questions that she didn't want to ask. Before she could stop herself, she spoke.

"How do we retrieve my parents?" Her throat was scratchy but she only swallowed against the feeling.

"I have already done so, child. They are at the Ministry of Magic, until we decide on what we want to do," the Headmaster answered readily, obviously not surprised by her words.

Child… She was no one's child anymore.

Pillows were fluffed up behind her back, allowing her to sit with ease. Her eyes roamed uninterestedly over the few Professors that stood around her bed, seemingly waiting for something, judging by the expectant looks.

"We have found your wand in your parents' cottage," Albus said.

She looked at the wooden stick and only felt disappointment. It didn't protect her or her family. So easy to drop; so much more difficult to form the words for a spell than to simply pull a trigger…

Her teachers looked on with mixed feelings as she ignored her wand.

"Your friends are most eager to see you," Minerva said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. She wasn't sure how to deal with this silent version of her student and it simply unnerved her. She would have gladly taken her into a comforting hug, trying to console the girl, but there were no tears to see and it left her floundering.

"Okay." What else was she supposed to say; they would see each other one way or the other, might as well do it now. She expected someone to talk with Harry and Ron in a bit and give them permission, and they'd be round after lessons. She wasn't quite prepared for them to storm into the room after Poppy allowed them in. They must have been loitering behind the door.

With wide and panicked eyes she watched Ron storm towards her like Hippogriff during mating season, and she unsuccessfully tried to melt back into the mattress.

Her arms came up instinctively to protect herself, but her enthusiastic friend took it as an invitation for a hug and bent over her, pressing his frame against hers.

Her choked scream made him look at her, and he was still smiling as he thought it was a shout of joy. Only her facial expression finally made him get off of her.

"Mr. Weasley, I distinctly remember telling you to give her some space," Poppy scolded and pulled him further away. Albus and Minerva had been too far away from her to stop Ron's overbearing greeting.

"What's wrong with her?" the disturbed looking red-head asked in his usual unsympathetic voice, speaking as if she weren't there.

"She has been through quite an ordeal," was all the nurse offered. "Now behave."

Ron stayed were he was, looking down grimly at the still frightened looking girl with his arms crossed. He had hoped for a warmer reception – and perhaps a kiss.

Harry slowly walked over to her bed and sat down on a chair. He was just as happy as Ron to see her, but had himself more under control. Reading the finer aspects of people's reactions hadn't always been his strong point, but at seventeen, he had finally learned.

"Hey, glad to have you back," he said softly, trying hard not to grasp her hand to reassure himself that she was real.

"Hi," Hermione croaked and put a lot of effort into gathering her calm. With a slow and painful wriggle she tried to sit more upright, not comfortable with being so much lower than her visitors.

Harry ducked his head and saw Hermione sigh in relief when her eyes were finally on the same level as his. He smiled tremendously when she sought his hand, almost crushing his bones with her tight grip when she found it.

Everyone looked on in dismay and anger as a sulking Ron stormed from the room, throwing the door shut behind himself in a juvenile manner.

"Immature boy." To everyone's surprise it was the Gryffindor Head-of House who had spoken. Minreva realised what she'd said and fiddled self-consciously with her hat, even though it sat perfectly on her head. She looked at everyone with a challenging expression, daring them to comment. No one was that stupid.

Harry shook his head, looking apologetically at Hermione, who looked rather unsurprised at Ron's behaviour.

"What happened?" he asked, and saw Hermione look enquiringly at the Headmaster.

Albus only shrugged. "It was not my place to tell. You may tell them what you wish, my dear."

She grasped Dumbledore's offer like a life-line. "I'd rather no talk about it yet, Harry."

He looked disappointed, but understanding won out. "As long as you're okay." He stroked her hand. "Shall we call your parents; maybe it would make you feel better when you see them."

His offer was sweet and thoughtful, but it brought tears to her eyes. "I don't think they can make it," she prevaricated with a choked voice, and saw Minerva leave the room. The austere witch wasn't fast enough to hide her watery eyes.

XXXXX

Hundreds of miles away the scene was completely different.

A grim looking Snape Apparated with a vicious _Crack _to the place he had found a barely alive Miss Granger. He had only seen the cellar of the house and that's were he found himself in.

"Lumos," he snarled with suppressed fury and his wand glowed in an extremely bright blue. Only now did he realise in which conditions the young witch had lived in. Even the Azkaban cells looked more inviting than this!

His moves were jerky as the anger that coursed through him made his muscles stiffen. He strode up the rickety stairs and blasted the door of the hinges. Panicked French voices shouted nearby and he followed them with a cruel smirk.

They had been sitting calmly around a table filled with beer and wine when he entered the house, probably not even aware that the girl they had kidnapped wasn't there anymore.

He laughed harshly as bullets flew past him and he stepped into the line of fire to look the man in the eye he would blast into bits any second. His shoulder caught a bullet and with an enraged shout he threw himself forward. Without having to say a word, black-purple light shot from his wand to engulf the scared man.

With a disgusting but satisfying sound, all four limbs and an ugly head were wrenched off the body that fell to the ground.

Two more men were in the house and would be dead soon. More bullets shot through the air, blasting holes into plaster that crumbled to the floor. A lightbulb shattered, one shard lodging itself in Severus' cheek.

Snape's next victim gurgled horribly as an unseen force crushed his innards and then his neck. The last thing that man saw was the satisfied expression on his killer's face.

The last survivor, fired aimlessly at the intruder before fleeing into the next room. Snape strode after him, not even trying to put up a shield to protect himself against the bullets. As he rounded the corner, a stray bullet found its way into his thigh and he stumbled slightly.

With another impressive show of silent magic, he simply Accio'ed the last man, putting him in a body bind. He towered over the weak looking man in his late thirties, listening to his pleading words.

Surprising himself, he calmly cast a Translation charm, enabling him to speak and understand the rapid French that molested his ears.

"Why did you kill the Grangers, and why did you abduct their daughter?"


	10. Chapter 10

"Ouch, woman," she heard a voice say gruffly, and she waited for more before she felt it safe to reveal herself.

"What in the name of Nimue have you done? What is this in thing in you? Something metal?" another voice, that she recognised as the one of Poppy Pomfrey, asked.

"It's called a bullet, Poppy, now stop putting your insensitive finger in my wounds and heal them."

"Into the teachers' wing with you, Severus," she ordered wryly at his tone.

"No, here will do."

"Lie down, then, you grouchy pain in the arse," the nurse said. If she was surprised by Snape's decision to be treated in Miss Granger's presence, she didn't show it. It was easier for her to heal him here, as it was closer to her potions; it had always been _him_ that had requested total privacy.

Hermione smiled weakly at their banter and heard the sound of feet moving towards her. She finally opened her eyes and was met by the sight of a limping Professor being led to the bed next to her.

Snape groaned quietly as he climbed rather elegantly onto the cot, only to hiss when Poppy inspected a wound on his shoulder.

"Who shot you?" Hermione asked quietly and two heads swivelled towards her.

"You're supposed to be fast asleep; I gave you a Sleeping Draught," Poppy said perplexed.

Hermione didn't reply and steadily watched the fidgety man nearby.

"Who? Where have you been?" she whispered, deep down knowing the answer, but needing to hear his confirmation. Bullets were only found in the Muggle world, everyone knew.

He waited for the irritation to set in at being asked such an invasive question from a student, but it would not come.

"They will never hurt anyone ever again," Severus ground out, finding his choice of words horribly cliché.

No immediate reaction came from the young woman, and he wondered if she hadn't understood his meaning. He had to look away from her impassive face, feeling suddenly immature for his revenge on her abductors. What had he been thinking? It had nothing to do with him, and he let himself get shot, willingly taking the pain as if it would make her feel better.

Poppy bustled off to get some potions, wondering if Snape had done what she thought. It wasn't unlike him to take revenge for something, but to do it for Miss Granger was utterly unexpected. She needed to have another talk with Albus, or Severus if he was willing, but she needed to know everything about Miss Granger's abduction and rescue.

When she came back, she saw Severus watching the young woman with a frown, and as she got closer she understood why he did so. Miss Granger was still lying in her earlier position, but now thick tears were pouring steadily from her closed eyes. She didn't make a single noise and it looked as if she was crying while being fast asleep.

The normally stern woman tenderly brushed the girl's hair aside and stroked her cheek. Still no reaction, other than a mild flinch.

"Hush, girl," she crooned and pulled the blanket higher up to her chin.

"If you could tend to my wounds sometime tonight, I'd be ever so grateful," Severus snarked.

Poppy bustled over to him with an aggrieved sigh. "I don't think you know how to express gratitude. Or is the lack of hissing and spitting your idea of saying thanks?" the nurse said dryly. A soft brush of his hair took the sting out of her words, but that didn't mollify him.

He looked over to Hermione, daring her to laugh, but saw that her tears had stopped and only their wet tracks were still visible. Her mouth was parted slightly; she seemed to be asleep.

"She's got a lot of recovering to do," Poppy said, as if reading his thoughts. "Where have you been tonight?" she asked while administering a pain reliever before starting with his treatment.

"You heard what I said," he said shortly and licked the potion's remains off his lips.

"It seemed as if you've killed the people who had taken Miss Granger."

He hissed softly at the slight pain in his shoulder, and Poppy poured some anaesthetic ointment on the wound to aid the pain reliever.

Severus didn't bother denying anything, especially after having Albus' permission to hurt the men. "You have seen her injuries," he began, "but you have no idea how depraved those men were. If you think Death Eaters are animals, you would be shocked to the core at how beastly those Muggles were."

"What do you know about her injuries?" she asked surprised, wondering how much he knew. She had never talked about them, as her oath of confidentiality didn't allow her to. Not even Albus knew any details.

Severus turned tortured eyes towards the matron. "Everything," he rasped. "Sometimes Legilimency is a curse!"

Poppy pinched her lips, really not wanting to know every detail of what the poor girl had to go through – seeing the results on the young body had been enough. She had no words and silently finished healing Severus' injuries.

"Stay the night," she told her younger colleague, handing him the two bullets she'd found in his body. He stuffed them into his trousers pocket and turned onto his side, heeding Pomfrey's advice with no complaints, always watching Hermione until his lids closed.

As a nurse, she has seen her fair share of maladies, and it was only natural to acquire one or the other injury in a magical school. But she absolutely disliked the idea of harming anyone deliberately, and it had made her blood boil to see the tragic injuries Hermione was suffering from after being abused.

She didn't support the idea of revenge either, but in this case she couldn't help but feel nothing but pride in Severus, who had done what he did for a student, a Gryffindor he'd never felt anything more than annoyance for.

Many people might have wished to make those men pay, but only Severus had the balls to actually do anything, even if it meant trouble for him or the cruel reproach from others.

Poppy watched with fascination as Hermione's hand rose once again, as if trying to reach out to someone. What was even more interesting was that Severus' upper body strained towards that hand at the same time. She didn't believe in coincidences and walked into her quarters with a thoughtful mien.

XXXXX

When Poppy went to check up on her patients the next morning, she found Snape's bed empty and wasn't surprised. That he had stayed the night without a grumble had been close to a miracle.

Hermione woke to the noises of rustling bed linen, and pushed herself up, watching Poppy straighten out the empty bed next to her.

"Good morning, dear. What would you say to using the toilet today? A bath wouldn't be remiss, either."

Hermione grimaced at the uncomfortable topic, but nodded; she had quite enough of bed pans and wet sponges.

After a small breakfast and her potions, Hermione slowly climbed from the bed, clinging desperately to Madam Pomfrey's strong arm.

"How does a nurse get so many muscles?" she asked and was rewarded with a laugh by the woman.

"Caring for protesting Potions masters and keeping them still will turn your muscles into this," she explained with a conspiratorial smile, that Hermione copied shyly.

Her legs were still weak and wanted to buckle under her weight, despite being over eight kilos lighter than before her abduction. It was obvious that she had not just lost body fat, but a good amount of muscles. The bath looked inviting and she said nothing as Poppy peeled her out of her gown.

Being naked in front of strangers had lost its nobility, and she climbed carefully into the tub. Once in the clear and wonderfully warm water she couldn't help but look at the many scars that covered her body. Poppy had done all she could, but the healing balm could only do so much, and should have been applied right after sustaining an injury.

Shifting uncomfortably, Hermione peered between her legs, as this was the only area that still stung. What she saw there shocked her, and she made a mew of revulsion.

"Ah, yes, I believe we have to talk," Poppy said with sad eyes, hating the defeated look on Hermione's face as she stared at the mutilated mess that was her vagina.

XXXXX

At the Head Table, Severus had to hear similar words from the Headmaster. "Severus, we need to talk. Come to me during the lunch break."

Not responding with more than a grunt, he continued eating, feeling his shoulder throb with pain. It wasn't happy with being used so early after getting shot. He had only wanted to get out of the infirmary that morning, and asking for a measly pain potion would only have delayed him.

Giving up eating, he stood and made his way to his classroom, promising himself to take something against the pain when he got there. His thigh protested the long walk, as well, and he was glad when he could sit down.

To his dismay, his first class was the seventh year Gryffindor-Slytherin class and he was in no mood for their childish squabbles. It didn't help that Miss Granger's place was still empty.

He kept his head down to be spared the sight, and only looked up at the first of Longbottom's customary whimpers.

With a mean smile, he stared at the boy who almost fainted at being watched so closely. His hands shook and he fought tears.

"You are seventeen years old, Longbottom, might as well start acting like it," Snape spat. "You cannot rely on Miss Granger's help for the rest of your life!"

With an irritated swish of his wand the ruined potion vanished and Neville slumped dejectedly over his desk. He missed Hermione. He had no idea that his teacher shared the same sentiment.

Snape wanted her back in his class; the only bright spot in an otherwise torturous teaching career, despite the bothersome hand-waving. As soon as he realised what he was thinking, he hit his desk with a fist. His shoulder ached even more then, and he deducted points of each house for staring at him when they should be working.

He couldn't wait for this class to end. Finally it did, and sooner than he wanted he had to meet the Headmaster.

"Rhubarb pie," he said and jumped onto the moving staircase. He knocked once and entered without waiting for an invitation.

"Sit, Severus," Albus greeted him, quite used to having Snape barge into his office in this manner. "I'm sure you know why you're here."

"Because you told me to come," Severus said sourly, not willing to play into Albus' hands, but the old man merely smiled at his behaviour.

"Let's cut to the chase, my boy. Shacklebolt informed me of the gruesome demise of three French men, and we all know that it was you."

"How come they know about the death of three worthless scumbags just hours after it happened, but they knew nothing about the Granger's fate?" he snapped waspishly.

"Because Tonks and Shacklebolt are now investigating officially," Albus said with a sigh.

"But why the questions? I remember you telling me that I could use whatever means I see fit to retrieve her."

"Yes, to retrieve her," Albus said with some bite. "It was clear that the men died only yesterday, meaning you returned there to kill them after rescuing Miss Granger, and killing them didn't help you with your rescue plan." He held up a hand when Snape tried to defend himself. "I want to know why." He purposely didn't tell his Potions master that he wouldn't be in any trouble for killing the men, but he knew Severus wouldn't be very forthcoming if he knew that fact. A little pressure was all Albus needed.

"You have no idea how badly she was hurt, Dumbledore. I saw it in their minds, and I saw the testimony on her body." He agitatedly paced through the office. "They have mutilated her, and I won't go into details. And do you want to know why they did it?"

Albus didn't need to nod; the answers were practically flowing from Snape's mouth, as unstoppable as lava from an erupting volcano.

"They were thieves and only wanted the Granger's technical equipment. They killed them for their fucking television!" True, there had been more stolen things; just about every thing that one could turn into money, but it hardly mattered. "They have moved across the country for years, stealing and killing when someone got in their way. If the Muggle police are too incompetent to apprehend them, than it's time we did!"

"And why had they taken Miss Granger?"

Severus stopped mid-stride and turned away from his employer. "Slave market. They had the quick idea of selling her as a… sex slave," he said monotonously, stumbling slightly over the word sex. "They had no idea how to go about selling her, and they quickly abandoned the idea, using her for themselves," he spat. "She might not have made them any money, but she was good enough to serve as their entertainment."

He recalled the memories of her frightened yet fierce attempt to fight her abductors he had seen in the French guys mind. He could still see the look on her face, when she'd lost her wand; the moment when realisation set in that she'd just lost her only chance of getting through this alive and unharmed. Her demeanour had changed then, and she had screamed in impotent rage as her parents died in front of her eyes. One shallow cut across her throat, and she numbly accepted her defeat.

Then he straightened. "When are Aurors coming to arrest me then?" he asked stiffly, not feeling the slightest regret over what he'd done.

A still stricken Dumbledore collected himself. "Don't fear my boy, I will straighten everything out."

Severus knew that he was dismissed and left in a flurry of robes, angry all over again, as his words brought back the atrocities the men had done to Miss Granger. He couldn't understand his strong reactions for the student he had mistreated himself for many years.

Mind you, his verbal attacks had been nothing compared to what she had suffered in France. Gods, he wanted to resurrect the bastards and kill them all over again!

In his rage, he didn't notice Minerva walking in the opposite direction. She had raised her hand to make him stop, but upon seeing his dangerous expression she was glad when he walked past her without seeing her.

"Merlin protect the poor things that have lessons with him this afternoon," she prayed and kept walking.


	11. Chapter 11

The rest of the first week of school passed without any further crisis. Hermione was still stuck in the infirmary, but didn't once complain over her prolonged stay, or the uncomfortable treatment.

The matron wasn't happy with the intimate procedures either, and had to look away from Hermione's mortified face every time she had asked the Gryffindor to spread her legs to inspect her worst injury and to apply the needed poinments. Poppy feared the long-time consequences for the young woman, but every attempt to talk had been rejected.

Poppy watched her steady return to health, but was worried by the obvious change in Hermione's personality.

She was listless and awfully quiet. She responded to questions, and even smiled every now and then, but she was no longer the bubbly girl from before. She did her exercises, ate and drank when she had food in front of her, but she hardly finished her fare.

Her only response to something amusing was a gentle smile, and Poppy had only heard one single soft huff of laughter coming from teh young witch.

It wasn't a surprise to be altered after such a tragic event. Losing her parents and being raped repeatedly while living in captivity can't be easy to come to terms with. It was sure to leave marks on a soul, especially one as bright and innocent as hers.

The only thing that was unexpected was the absence of tears and the lack of questions about her parents. The grief was all too apparent in her, but she didn't reveal her pain. Poppy often watched her stare out of the window for ages, lost in her own world with nothing but her thoughts and worries.

The nurse had more than once offered to listen to anything she might want to talk about, but Hermione had always declined with an appreciative smile. Unless she would turn aggressive or have any other personality changes that could not be borne, there was nothing anyone could do.

Forcing her to relive her memories by using a Pensieve or using Legilimency on her were forbidden, and would only worsen things, of that Poppy was sure.

There was nothing else to do, but to wait patiently for her to come to turns with the ordeal in her own time. Poppy's time with her was to come to an end, as well, as Hermione was set to be released on Saturday. Not even that promise had garnered more than an indifferent, "Okay."

By the time Saturday had arrived, it was Poppy that bustled nervously around her only patient, trying to prepare her and release her in the best possible condition; physically and emotionally.

"You should still take some mild Calming draught when you feel any anxiety," the nurse said, not seeing the mildly amused smile on Hermione's face. "And here is a jar full of the ointment for your privates. I had Severus make you some more, as I was running low." She also didn't see how the smile vanished with alarming speed.

"Does he know?"

Poppy looked up startled, not having heard this annoyed tone of voice in ages. There was no way around telling her the thruth, or some of it.

"I told him nothing, and the cream is only a general healing balm, not allowing him come to any conclusion about your injury. But…" and here she faltered, not knowing how much would break the calm façade. "But he was the one to find and rescue you, so he has an idea about the extent of your injuries."

"And he went back to France on a killing spree about it…" Hermione said dryly, looking as if all amusement would be banished from her face for the next century. "He knows more than you let on!"

There was no way around it anymore. "You're forgetting that he's a Legilimens." Poppy's voice was soft, and she grimaced at Hermione's hissed and dismayed, "Fuck!"

Of course, she knew. Harry had mentioned it during the ill-fated Occlumency lessons in fourth year. She had just forgotten; her mind was on other things this week.

"He will keep your secret," Poppy reassured her, but didn't think it would make a difference to the girl's discomfort.

"It's bad enough that he knows," Hermione said, confirming Poppy's thoughts. Then she sighed deeply and rubbed her face and neck, wincing as she accidentally rubbed the sensitive scar on her throat. She didn't say anything else, not giving the nurse any indication about what she was thinking.

"He can be a decent man," the older witch said assuredly and was surprised at Hermione's knowing nod.

"I know, but he also does what he wants when he can gain something, or have an advantage over someone," she said.

"Do you think him so callous as to use this against you at some time?"

Hermione shrugged, not _wanting_ Snape to be like that, but her experiences with him had taught her to be wary. "He's…"

"A Slytherin?" Poppy asked with narrowed eyes, stemming her hands in her hips. She didn't like it when someone had such beastly prejudices against the man.

Hermione smiled widely and touched Poppy's arm to calm her. "I was merely going to say: He is who he is."

Poppy harrumphed. "I'm not sure that was much better," she said, but there was humour in her voice.

They shared a smile, and Poppy went back to giving Hermione advice about her medication. Hermione listened patiently and scratched her head where a bald patch still reminded her of the head wound she had. Madam Pomfrey had not wanted to re-grow the hair until it had healed completely, but it didn't bother her as she had enough curly mess to spare.

Both looked up when Harry and Ron entered the infirmary. Harry had been her only visitor during the last few days. Ron had been sulking, and Hermione didn't want to see anyone else. Neville and Ginny were the only ones to send her a card, wishing her a speedy recovery.

She remembered the pang she had felt, when noticing how few people actually found her important enough to worry over her. With her parents gone, she had no one else to fall back on.

"Ready to go back to Gryffindor house?" Harry asked, and bent down to put Hermione's shoes on as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I haven't lost my ability to do my shoes, Harry," she said, but let him finish his self-appointed task.

"Don't worry, that's a one time deal. I only want to reassure Madam Pomfrey that you will be well cared of in her absence," he said with a cheeky grin.

Poppy snorted and saw Hermione smile. It wasn't as bright as it could have been, but it looked good on her.

Ron stood behind Harry and watched the proceedings with forced calm. He didn't like Harry fawning over her and his puckered lips made his displeasure very clear. Hermione caught his mien and didn't realise that her face had taken on a blank expression in reaction, as she waited for the confrontation his attitude promised.

Unnoticed, Albus and Minerva had entered the room and approached quietly, noticing the charged atmosphere.

"Why are you here?" they heard Hermione ask the red-head in a perfectly reasonable tone.

"To give you another chance," Ron huffed, annoyed with her lack of understanding.

"To do what?" This time Hermione couldn't help but sound slightly incredulous and bewildered.

"Prove to me that you are still my friend."

Minerva wanted to interrupt the boy before he said something he would regret, but Albus held her back.

"You haven't been very nice when I came to say hello. You can make it up to me now," he said and was suddenly hit by a Stinging hex that made him yelp. "What did you do that for?" he barked, looking enraged at the cringing girl on the bed.

"I didn't do anything," she said with a weak voice. She knew she sounded weak and hated herself. "It was him, I think," she whispered and nodded to a spot on the far wall, just past Harry's head, but to the others it looked as if she had indicated her bespectacled friend.

"Sure thing," the Ron growled, thinking her quite mad. "You can be with your beloved Harry then," he spat and turned away, only to notice he had an audience. "She should have her brain checked," he said, foolishly hoping for some agreement from the adults.

Minerva was getting awfully red in the face. "Fifty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, for complete lack of decency, loyalty and… and sheer idiocy." Minerva hadn't been so disappointed with one of her own in a while, and she wondered if that was how Severus always felt, when yet another of his students joined Voldemort despite his attempts to steer them all away from the despot.

"Has he always been like that, and have I just not noticed?" Hermione asked bewildered and saw Harry's angry mien. It wasn't directed at her, but she tried to pull her hand away slowly to be free of him.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said contritely and put on a smile. Both knew it was forced but it restored their peace for the moment.

"I'm not sure teacher's are allowed to hex students," she suddenly said, quirking her lips as she looked back to the wall.

The others in the room looked at her a little alarmed. Hermione noticed that something wasn't right.

"What now?"

"Who are you speaking to, Miss Granger?" Poppy asked delicately.

Hermione frowned in confusion. "Professor Snape, of course."

Albus stepped closer just as Poppy put her wrist on Hermione's forehead, checking for fever. "My dear, Professor Snape is not here."

"I haven't got a fever. Stop fussing." She pushed Poppy's hand away. "You're freaking me out!" Hermione said, feeling panic rise steadily. What was happening to her? "He's right there," she cried, pointing wildly at the spot between tow beds. "Say something," she ordered loudly, and saw the black-haired man advance.

He looked at her with the same worried expression that the others currently wore. Then he waved his wand in a wide arc, and Hermione shrieked, thinking he was going to do something to her.

Poppy and Minerva also shrieked but for a different reason. Seeing the dour man pop out of nowhere was a shock in itself.

"Severus, have you been here the entire time?" Albus asked, glad that he hadn't shrieked like the females, but his heart had definitely skipped a beat.

"Yes, under a Disillusionment Charm," he said, still watching Hermione with the oddest expression. "Did you see me?"

She was too scared to speak and nodded. Her hand was grasping her jumper, willing her heart to calm. "You…" she gulped nervously. "You shimmered."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked in a soft voice, sounding as if her were trying not to spook her.

She rolled here eyes, finally getting her bearings. "Just what I said, Harry. He shimmered. Now will you all stop looking at me like I'm crazy?"

"Interesting," the Headmaster said. "Severus, could you use the same spell and add a Silencing charm? I'd like you to walk through the infirmary, until I ask Miss Granger to point you out. Then you can reveal yourself."

Severus vanished immediately and must have used the Silencing charm, as they heard nothing. No one had the faintest idea where their Potions master was, only Hermione followed every of his movements easily.

Dumbledore waited for a few seconds and asked Snape to stop wherever he was.

"Miss Granger, can you still see him?"

"Yes, and he still shimmers."

"Well then, point at him."

Hermione did so, her fingers indicating a spot by the big doors to the infirmary. A moment later, a thoughtful Snape reappeared.

"This is impossible," Minerva said into the shocked silence.

"It _should_ be impossible," Poppy corrected.

"It must be a side-effect of the ritual," Albus murmured and earned himself a glare from the black-haired man striding towards them.

At this, Hermione and Harry looked at him questioningly. "What ritual?"

"That's a talk for another day." Dumbledore cleared his throat, not willing to reveal anything just now. "Yes, well... Nothing of what just happened will leave this room, until we find out what just happened." Too late he noticed how weird his sentence sounded, and found himself at the end of some amused stares.

"Yes, well…" he began, a little flustered, and rolled his eyes at Minerva's snicker. He'd just repeated himself again. "Harry and Hermione will go to their dormitory. The others will return to their duties," he said, trying to regain some authority.

"It's Saturday, and we are not on duty," Severus said with mock seriousness, pressing his lips together to avoid the grin that lurked. He allowed his amusement to cover the churning in his guts; this new development could only be due to the spell!

"Everyone out," Dumbledore said loudly and was the first to leave. Hermione laughed to herself and dragged Harry with her. She looked at Snape on the way out and her smile softened and turned thoughtful.

Snape knew that her lack of further questions was just a temporary reprieve. He found himself nodding with a tiny movement that was so small that the others missed it. He mentally asked himself what the hell he was doing, but simply followed the students out and returned to his chambers – it was high time he prepared himself for the inevitable talk with the girl.


	12. Chapter 12

"Surprise," everyone yelled when Harry and Hermione stepped into the common room.

Their returned know-it-all smiled timidly at the boisterous group, and immediately stepped backwards when they advanced en masse for their welcoming hugs.

Harry protectively stepped in front of her. "Hermione got hurt and isn't keen on too much contact, she is still healing," he made up, not knowing all the details himself.

The atmosphere changed slightly, especially after Ron's nasty, "Must have hurt her brain, most likely."

Ginny hit her brother over the head and stepped forward. "Don't listen to the prat. He's just a love-sick fool," she said and didn't mind to see her brother leave hastily.

Hermione's eyes widened at that revelation and looked at Harry, silently asking for confirmation, or preferable denial. The words didn't seem to be a surprise to him, though, and Hermione shuddered. Not that she found Ron repulsive, but the mere thought that someone was sexually interested in her was the stuff of nightmares at the moment.

Ginny waved her over and she gratefully joined the younger girl on an empty couch. Neville joined them and sat right next to her, making her stiffen without being able to prevent her reaction.

Ginny was by far the most observant Weasley offspring and she motioned Neville to scoot away from Hermione, which seemed to help.

"How are you, Hermione?" she asked and smiled at Harry when he sat by his girlfriends feet, but brought her attention quickly back to the other girl.

"A little overwhelmed," she said truthfully and shifted on the couch. Making eye contact with anyone suddenly seemed incredibly hard and she swallowed repeatedly.

"What happened?" Ginny asked carefully, and everyone within hearing range leaned closer to hear the answer.

"I had an accident during our holiday," Hermione made up slowly, and was pleased to note that she had somehow learned how to lie without being too obvious. Her relief quickly changed into guilt, but she wasn't ready to tell anyone the truth.

"I'm just glad that you're back," Neville said earnestly. "Potions was so stressful, I actually got a stomach ulcer. Madam Pomfrey wasn't amused."

"You're not joking, are you?" she asked, almost fearing the answer. When Neville shook his head with a grimace, she had to snort. "Oh, Neville. You really have to learn to depend on yourself."

She realised that this was a god advice to herself and her smile slid off her face. "I think I need to lie down a bit," she excused herself and got up, wishing she could walk faster, but her still tender flesh between her thighs only allowed an awkward waddle.

Gratefully she walked into her dorm, closing the door behind her with nothing but relief.

"Oh, hey, you're back."

With a mild shriek, Hermione twisted on the spot and saw Lavender standing in the middle of the room, brushing her hair.

"We've kinda used your desk for some of our stuff," she said, not even realising Hermione's distress. "You don't need it now, do you?" Without waiting for a reply, she kept talking. "We will clear our stuff away tomorrow. Oh, and we took your pillow. You'll have to ask a house-elf for a new one."

With a fake smile that stopped before it was fully formed, the blond girl turned back into the bathroom, locking the door.

Lavender and Parvati had never liked her, or understood her, and vice versa, but this icy reception brought tears to her eyes. Holding them back until she had safely hidden in her four-poster and drawn the curtains, she cast a Silencing charm and let the tears come.

She felt alone in the world, and wanted nothing more to dash back into the infirmary, basking in the concern of the nurse. The matron had been strangely motherly without forcing her to accept her help, advice or warmth. No pressure and no obligation to give anything in return.

She wanted to cry herself too sleep, but was unsuccessful. It wasn't due to the lack of a pillow – she had really slept under worse conditions. She wasn't ready to go back to classes, pretend as if nothing happened and continue with her life.

It was unavoidable, she knew that, sooner or later she would have to go on and live her life, but she really wanted to… well, delay it. She didn't get up, though, fearing that what she wanted to do was juvenile and weak, but when she was still wide awake well past midnight, she climbed out of her bed.

Barefoot, she quickly left her room, and the common room, not bothering to answer the Fat Lady's interrogation, only intent on getting to the infirmary. The fear of being seen or stopped by a patrolling teacher was non-existent, and she hastened through the corridors with only one goal in mind.

At one stage she stopped by a dark alcove and lifted her arm, trying to reach out for something. She had no idea what that was, but she felt a pull towards something – a something that promised comfort, but that sounded ridiculous. Hermione forced the urge away and continued on her way to the infirmary. Something was wrong here, and ot only added to the aftershocks of her ordeal.

She felt out of sorts and was almost sobbing by the time she'd reached the Hospital Wing and quieted down immediately. She only needed the familiar atmosphere and the knowledge that Poppy was nearby; she had no intentions to actually wake the woman from her well-deserved rest.

Climbing into what she'd come to consider as her private bed, she finally relaxed enough to fall asleep, snoring quietly after mere moments.

Poppy had heard the commotion; the slight squeaking of the door hinges had been part of her daily life for over thirty years and she always woke up when someone entered.

Equipped with her wand she went to investigate, and found the sight of a bushy-haired witch unguardedly snoozing in a bed more heart-wrenching than it should have been. She felt a wave of sadness swamp her and had a hard time swallowing the lump that was in her throat.

The picture reminded her of a young Severus Snape, who had often pretended to still be in pain in order to be able to stay for just one more night. He'd been scared to return to his own house, and the pranks that awaited him everywhere. His friendship with Lily Evans had not made him any friends among the pure-blooded children from prejudiced families.

She returned to her bed, letting Hermione sleep. The young woman would have to face so much more unpleasant things in the near future, and the least Poppy could do was to allow her some reprieve.

Some time later, the door opened again, but this time it did so noiselessly. With soft steps the latest guest walked to the first bed, only interested in its occupant and nothing else.

A chair was conjured and placed in front of the bed, and some unseen weight settled onto it. After that, everything returned to its peaceful quiet state, and remained so for quite some time.

XXXXX

He woke with a curse on his lips, feeling something warm rest on his knee. Whatever it was didn't move, and Severus carefully opened his eyes, ready to pull his wand out of his sleeve should the need arise.

It was still dark outside and he wandlessly lit one of the candles that could be found on every bedside table, and saw a dainty hand lying innocently on his kneecap. Its owner was blessedly asleep, and it gave him some time to try to soak up the warmth that radiated off the appendage.

The warmth seemed to come in waves, rippling outwards like the rings a stone created when it was dropped into water. He could just be imagining it, or at could just be absolutely normal… He had no idea, as no one had ever touched him such an extended length of time.

He noted with some distaste that her index finger had no nail whatsoever, and the skin there was looking raw. With disbelief he watched his hand move to turn her hand over, tracing a vicious scar with his eyes. It was bad enough that he was touching her, but tracing a scar with his fingers would really be inexcusable.

He been on a late patrol a few hours earlier, hiding in a dark alcove as he'd heard someone approach. He had wanted to jump out of the shadows to scare the miscreant, but when he recognised Hermione, he had stayed hidden, shrinking back further into the darkness as she reached out in his direction.

"You're shimmering."

Hearing the soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he dropped the hand, pushing his chair away from her bed, but failing to get up. He had no idea what to say, and she kept talking to cover his speechlessness.

"Fearing to be seen by others or still hoping not to be seen by me?"

It was impossible to rouse indignation when she sounded so infuriatingly calm and reasonable. He was by nature suspicious but he could have studied her features and behaviour for hours without finding the smallest sign of treachery – it only put him more on guard around her, or at least that's what he told himself to do.

"Can you take the Disillusionment charm off, please? That shimmering is rather irritating," she told him.

"How exactly do I shimmer?" he asked, even as he ended the spell.

"Have you ever looked through a pair of glasses that was too strong for your eyes? It's a bit like that. Like there's another few layers on top of your normal image. It's difficult to describe." She chewed on her lower lip while thinking up a good way to describe what she saw. "Wait, have you ever seen how a road shimmers at the horizon on a very hot summer day? That'a what you look like!" She seemed satisfied with her description.

"Why did you return?" he suddenly asked, and watched every nuance of her slow movements as she struggled into a sitting position. Her breasts moved like soft pendulums as she shifted, and he forced himself to peer at her face. Her grimacing mouth and pinched eyebrows didn't look quite so seductive, yet made him want to ease her discomfort.

"Couldn't sleep," she admitted and pulled up her knees, wrapping her arms around them in a protective way.

"You're behaving oddly," he said, realising that he had never spend so much time with a student outside of class as with her.

"Is there a protocol to follow after seeing one's parents being murdered and being pawed by three men while living like a rat?"

"If there was, I'm quite sure you'd really follow said protocol."

She smiled. "If it would help, then yes."

"Help with what, exactly? Forgetting? Going forward? Behaving normally?"

"All of the above. But first I'd like this weird numbness to fade," she told him quietly.

He regarded her for a long moment, until his mind wandered and his eyes did the same. He saw her naked feet peek from under the blanket and he couldn't look away from the toes.

The sudden extensive wriggling of those toes made him look up again, and was met by a smile that looked too indulgent to be coming from such a young woman. He was glad when she didn't stare at him too intensely, or displayed any disgust.

"With the numbness gone, so will the safety net," he said, finally giving a response to her previous statement.

"And I've got nothing else to fall back on," she whispered.

"Except for this bed in the infirmary." There was no judgement in his words.

She looked up, trying to judge is remark for its seriousness. He didn't appear to be mocking her, but that was the only thing she was convinced of.

"Except for this bed," she echoed. Hesitant tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and dared to slide down her face, and she hastily rubbed her eyes, not wanting to give Snape even more ammunition for future mocking. Opening up to him had been enough, but she couldn't make herself regret.

She forced herself to look at him, daring him to make fun of her, but his expression was far from gloating or disgusted. He looked at her… well, fascinated was the only word that came to mind.

Severus was indeed entranced by the sight of her tears. Normally he would have run at the first sign of watery eyes, but her current look reminded him of the photo he'd watched so often, and was painfully reminded of just how easy she was on the eyes.

He didn't dare even think about the word pretty in her presence, in case his thoughts might show on his face. He could hide nearly every thought and every feeling, but appreciation for a female wasn't among those things. Of course, he would never look like a love-sick puppy, all doe-eyed and with an insipid grin on his face… No, but he had been told that he tended to look somewhat softer than normal. That wouldn't do.

"Go back to sleep," he got out, sounding a tad too breathless for his taste. He got up and walked out, noticing the nurse stand behind her office door. He feared for her reaction but only got a friendly smile, which he couldn't return.

"Stay for a while," Poppy whispered and he frowned at her.

He looked back at the curled up witch, who seemed to try and suffocate herself with the blanket, and pinched his nose. With a grimace he turned back and sat down on the chair again, seeing a fleeting smile on Hermione's face.

As the two people turned silent, Poppy returned to her bed for the third time that night. She left them alone, hoping they'd keep each other buoyant on their seas of problems.


	13. Chapter 13

Her inner clock was completely off and she woke with a gasp as someone gently touched her shoulder.

"Come on, my dear, time to get up." It was Poppy that had woken her.

"Sorry," Hermione said quickly, hoping not to be reprimanded for entering the infirmary without asking for permission, but the nurse only waved her off.

"It's time for breakfast soon. You can shower here if you want," Pomfrey offered and went about her business.

Hermione wondered how busy the woman really was, seeing as she was the only one in the vast room, and she wasn't even a patient anymore.

She hurried to the bathroom at the end of the infirmary and undressed reluctantly. She didn't mind the few scars that covered her body, knowing that she didn't look that ghastly with them. Besides, it was questionable that anyone other than herself would ever get to see her naked.

The reason for that prediction was the despicable sight of her sex. Thick white scars zigzagged through her curly pubic hair, but what was worse than that, were the ragged looking edges of her labia. One side was missing almost completely, thanks to the fascination one of her captors had with his knife.

Another rough and puckered looking scar ran from her vagina to her anus. The deep cut had already healed during her captivity, but it hadn't healed well, and would likely always cause irritation and discomfort, Poppy had said. On the bright side: Apparently her productive parts worked just fine…

Hermione laughed without any humour.

Well, there wasn't much chance of allowing anyone anywhere near her mangled privates, as such the chances for a pregnancy were slim. Her rape had also not endeared men to her, making a life-long celibacy look like the most likely scenario for her future.

Resolutely not looking down, Hermione got in one of the showers, finishing quickly.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," she said on her way out, waving shyly to the nurse.

"Until tonight, I guess," Poppy said to herself when Hermione was already out of the room.

XXXXX

The Great Hall had never felt so overwhelming to Hermione and she hesitated before entering. A group of first years asked her to get out of the way or get inside, and she just stepped aside with a blush to let them enter.

She waited for another moment before braving the raucous atmosphere that ruled over the room during breakfast.

The familiar heads of Harry and Ron were easy to spot and she quickly walked over, not realising that she had been holding her breath until she had sat down.

"Morning," Harry said and she looked up with a start.

"Hi," she managed and cleared her throat.

Ron gave her an unfriendly nod, but it was better than nothing. She returned the gesture nervously, hoping he wouldn't start talking about his attraction to her or anything similar.

She was so busy with trying to ignore the unbelievable noise and the quick movements from everyone, that she forgot the real reason fro attending breakfast.

"Not hungry?" Ginny asked from a few seats away, noticing her distraction.

"Erm." She couldn't believe how tongue-tied she was and forced herself to put some food on her plate. Next to her sat Seamus, and he jostled her occasionally without meaning to. Every time he did, Hermione's fork halted its process and she looked like frozen.

Harry wasn't blind and got up to change seats with her. Ever so gently, he nudged her shoulder and told her to scoot over, so she was now seated between him and Neville.

It was still far too crowded for her taste and she began to perspire. Before long, after exactly five spoonfuls of porridge, she climbed off the bench and left the Great Hall.

Not even Ron was so blind to have missed her peculiar behaviour, but instead of working up some concern, he was his usual insensitive self.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked annoyed, and threw down his fork on his empty plate.

"What's wrong with _you_?" Harry countered. "You say you want her…" Here Ron blushed and hoped no one was listening. "… and the next second you turn your back on her, instead of offering help."

"She's happy enough with _you _helping her," Ron said nastily and left as well.

Harry and Ginny shared a grim look, hoping he wouldn't take his aggressions out on Hermione. Ron's accusations were laughable, and his jealousy was getting on their nerves. Harry loved Ginny, while Hermione was like a big sister to him.

She had always looked out for him, even if he hadn't appreciated her enough for it, and now it was his turn to help and he was glad to do it.

They weren't the only ones to worry. Up at the Head table, three pairs of eyes had followed almost all of Hermione's movements. Black eyes had narrowed in discomfort, not understanding the odd pull he still felt in his chest from time to time, especially when Miss Granger was around. He wanted to follow the girl, and didn't know why, pressing his feet against the floor to stay in his seat.

XXXXX

It was Sunday and usually she would have spent most of her time in the library. Today, though, she had no interest in books, not even to prepare for lessons tomorrow. She hadn't even asked anyone to copy their notes from the weeks of school she'd missed.

Studying didn't hold any appeal; nothing else seemed to do so either.

Her steps had followed the familiar path to the library anyway, and she entered the empty room.

Madam Pince eyed her with raised eyebrows, but wasn't overly surprised to see the girl on a Sunday morning.

"Nice to have you back," she said gruffly and went back to sorting a stack of books, not waiting for an answer from the student.

Hermione was a little shocked, to say the least. In all her years at Hogwarts, the librarian hadn't said a single personal word to her. There had never been anything beyond annoyed answers to Hermione's many questions.

Not knowing what to do or say, Hermione walked into the Restricted Section, having gained permanent access to it the year before. Sitting down at her usual table, she stared unseeingly at the massive bookshelf in front of her.

She still felt utterly numb, and didn't know what to do, or where to start with accepting her changed life.

The smell of old books had always been a source of comfort for her, but now it was only a torturous reminder of her mother who had seemingly transferred her extreme love for anything written to her daughter.

Her mother…

The joyful woman, whose intelligence had always urged her daughter on to greater heights, always asking questions to better understand the world she lived in.

Now she was gone and there would never be anymore lively discussions with her, no shared laughs, no cooking time… Nothing.

For the first time since her ordeal, her grief was close to overwhelming her, and Hermione couldn't let that happen. Welcoming the grief and pain would mean to accept her loss, would mean to accept being all alone…

"No safety net, no safety net," she reminded herself with a croaky whisper, hoping that the fear of falling apart, without having anyone to place the shards back together, would keep her in control.

But her eyes burned hotter and hotter, and she keened softly as she desperately fought for control. Her body shook, wanting to release all the pent up anger and hatred, all the suppressed anguish and the mind-numbing guilt that would surely drown her.

Her hands fisted roughly in her hair, and she bent over, hoping to keep everything locked inside by protectively covering her inner secrets.

It didn't help, and she tossed her head roughly, making wild hair and first tears fly through the air.

Her stricken face turned hard and furious, and her feet stomped on the library floor with brutal force. She couldn't hold it in anymore and threw her head backwards with a silent cry, her wide-open mouth and the tightly clenched lids forming a grimace of unbelievable turmoil.

This was how Severus Snape found her, his own face a mask of discomfort, as he silently watched her breakdown, all the while trying to alleviate the tight feeling in his chest.

Hermione was too absorbed in her misery and hadn't noticed his presence.

It just wasn't fair, and she knew that no one cared about fairness in this life, but it didn't console her. They should not have died!

Her arms swung out to the side, and she caught the window sill with her forearm, while her other hand hit the bookshelf behind her. The pain was welcome and she repeated her move, while her legs begun to kick everything they could reach. The heavy table screeched as it skidded across the floor, and it creaked as one of its legs threatened to buckle from the well-aimed kicks it had to endure.

Wilder and wilder got her furious attacks of anything the library had to offer, and Severus got more and more alarmed. His chest was feeling so tight that he felt his breathing impaired, and for the first time he allowed himself to draw the parallels to the ritual he'd used to bring her back. He was fairly sure she was causing this pain.

It had been surprising enough to be seen by her despite the Disillusionment charm, but this… whatever he felt, was immensely unwanted and awkward.

Nevertheless, he couldn't stand to watch her any longer and cast a Silencing charm to avoid a nosy Madam Pince coming to investigate. He wasn't a stranger to tears and heartache, seeing as he had to deal with lots of home- and lovesick students each year, yet he had never been faced with distress in the dimensions he witnessed now.

It was truly painful to watch her and he carefully squatted down and touched her kicking leg, making her shriek in fright. He wouldn't have been surprised had she stopped crying and fled, but he hadn't anticipated her response.

She struggled to her to get off the chair and flew against him, knocking him on his arse, not knowing or caring why she saw a source of comfort in the normally unapproachable man.

Severus watched incredulously as she stuffed his cloak into her mouth and let out a muffled yell that surely would have pierced his eardrums without the fabric gagging her.

She was kneeling between his spread legs and gave him no time to feel self-conscious as she rocked his frame with her shaking. Her hands had gripped his cloak on each side of his chest, pulling and pushing against him, using him like she had used the table just moments before.

Another cry wrenched itself from her throat, sounding raw and bitter, and Severus felt nothing but commiseration. His hands moulded themselves around her hips, forbidding them to give them a hearty squeeze.

He said nothing, and let himself be jerked around by the young witch in his arms, letting her ride out her emotional explosion. He'd heard others soothe people in need with a soft, "Shhh," but he had always found that stupid and false, but right now his deep voice brought forth the smoothest crooning noise anyone had ever heard from him.

She quieted as if he'd commanded it. She was nowhere near letting him go, but that wasn't his aim anyway. He was quite content sitting there with her, enjoying her nearness on a purely innocent level. He didn't have any sexual fantasies race through his brain, nor did he imagine them naked, or a grateful blowjob ending their time together.

He simply revelled in his new-found ability to soothe her and take the edge off her pain. Feeling womanly curves on him was a novelty, too, and he enjoyed her warmth.

"Shhh," he crooned again, liking the soft vibrations in his thorax as he did so. Her subsequent shudder brought goose bumps to his arms and he closed his eyes.

"Something is different," she choked out and Severus stiffened. Had he gotten an erection without noticing it? He shouldn't have; he didn't feel any arousal. He concentrated on his groin but was relieved when he was pleasantly flaccid.

"Do you feel… this?" she asked, and the look of doubt and fear to be laughed at, made him want to stroke the tension away from her features. He never would, though. This hug was likely to be the first and last time to be so near to her.

"What?" he asked softly and exhaled shakily as she brought her hand close to his chest, and he felt the same pull towards her as before. It got more intense the closer she got and he clamped a hand around her wrist, not wanting to find out more about the surprise results from the potion. Not now, and definitely not here.

"Please," she begged, fresh tears flowing from her amber eyes. It seemed, once the flood gates had been opened, she could hardly stop.

He shook his head; actually fearing what would happen if they were to touch, but denying her was hard, especially since he was also denying himself.

"Tell me about the potion that Dumbledore mentioned," she said with a hiccough and lowered her arm for the time being. "I know you know more about what is happening to us than you're letting on. And don't even try to tell me that nothing is going on!"

He almost smiled as he still saw her old character shine through the darkness she currently resided in, but her question kept any amusement at bay. Dammit, he thought. He really should have taken into account that she always asked questions, before offering to help!


	14. Chapter 14

"Get up, then. I don't want to look like a bloody story teller," he said gruffly and quickly severed all contact with her body, before he could allow his hands to roam over her body as she climbed off of him. Not even the excuse of merely keeping her steady would have been believable, he knew.

He didn't even watch her as she struggled to her feet, preferring to right himself quicker than her, as if that would give him any advantage.

They sat down at the table opposite each other, and Hermione watched him carefully while wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

Severs noticed her action with a grimace and conjured a handkerchief, making Hermione chuckle with the sheer size of it.

"That's certainly a man's hanky," she remarked and buried her face in it, as if it were a towel. She didn't look particularly lady-like, but for Severus it looked endearing to see the utter lack of manipulative, strategic and well-honed female wiles that were used to garner a certain reaction in a man.

Her innocent, and impressively loud nose-cleaning, made his lips twitch in amusement.

"Why would I learn the spell to conjure frilly women's hankies?" he asked her with a raised eyebrow.

"To impress them with your skill?" she ventured, knowing he didn't really want an answer but giving one anyway.

"You seemed impressed by the sheer size of it," he said dryly and blinked owlishly as they both realised the innuendo of their conversation.

"The spell?" she squeaked, trying to get them back on track and he took her diversion gratefully.

"How much do you know?" he asked, hoping just to fill in some blanks rather than telling the whole story. He groaned at her next words.

"Nothing whatsoever."

"How come you've not asked anything before now? You always make all sorts of enquiries, and you didn't even wonder how I found you?" he said with a mild sneer.

"It hurt to think," she whispered and nibbled on her lower lip, bringing her eyes ashamedly down to the table top, feeling suddenly very inadequate with the lack of interest she'd shown so far.

He didn't like to see her like that. "Sit up straight and pay attention," he snapped, not quite able to express his concern now that she wasn't buried in his arms. It got her out of her slumped position. That would have to be enough.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"After getting the address of your family's cottage in France Tonks and Shacklebolt searched for clues and found… your parents," he began and checked her reaction, but only saw her listen with concentration.

"Their Auror methods failed to locate you, however, and Dumbledore came to me with the bid to use any means necessary to find you. I found an old ritual…" He was just a few sentences into the story and hesitating already. He was afraid of her reaction; she probably would want to hear the faintest notion of being bound to him – if that really was the case. Not that he was all too sure about it himself, but all signs…

"Sir?" she ventured carefully, wondering where his thoughts had strayed.

He had rambled mentally and tried to get back on track. "I found this ritual, and it allowed my spirit or… astral projection to travel to you, manifesting into someone you trust, thus making it easier for you to grasp that persons offered hand."

He stopped again when he saw her speculative look and wondered suddenly who she'd seen; had it really been Potter? He was afraid to ask.

"Once you made contact with my spirit, it allows my body to follow, effectively bringing me to your location. Then I Apparated us away."

That was all he wanted to say, and waited for her next move.

"It hurt you, or _I_ hurt you, didn't I?"

Okay, that had not been what he's expected. "Is was nothing. You didn't do it intentionally."

"Of course I didn't hurt you intentionally," she huffed, insulted that he would think so.

Severus wondered what he'd said wrong, not understanding her sudden ire. "It was part of the spell, and I knew what to expect."

She frowned. "You're being horribly vague, sir," she said crisply and he suddenly knew what her friends endured with her as a friend, and he smirked.

"I don't enjoy being made fun of," she said as she saw his reaction and leaned back from him, nervously fiddling with the sleeve of her jumper. "I presume Dumbledore knows of the spell?"

He nodded, guessing where this was going, and not liking it one bit. "The Headmaster only knows the basics; the book containing the ritual is still in my possession and will stay there." His glare made her stand and inch past him with quick but careful steps.

"You're hiding something; that much is obvious. You only hide things when you fear for the ramifications when they get out."

He pressed his lips together in displeasure. It didn't need a superior intelligence to come to her conclusion, but he was sure that others would have been too intimidated to try and investigate further. He stood, almost bringing his chair to fall with his hasty move.

She flinched and tried to retreat from him, stumbling over her feet as she walked backwards, cushioning her fall with nothing but her bum.

That wasn't what he'd tried to achieve and he pinched his nose. He was feeling worse every second of seeing her look so fearfully at him.

"I won't hurt you," he pressed out, hurt himself by her reaction.

"I know that, theoratically, but I can't help but be afraid," she stuttered, but accepted his outstretched hand. She didn't step away from him again, watching him controlling his expression. "Do I have to go to Dumbledore to know more?"

He hesitated. "You should let the matter rest."

"You don't know me very well, then." She walked away, looking over her shoulder once to see him watch her as well. He didn't look particularly angry, merely worried, and was absentmindedly stroking his chest.

XXXXX

Dumbledore had his own ways of seeing who wanted to visit him, and he communicated with the gargoyle guard to let Miss Granger up, after having watched her try out several passwords in the interim.

"Miss Granger, what can I do for you?" he asked after asking her to enter, and wasn't surprised that she wanted to know everything about the spell Severus had used.

"Have you spoken to Severus yet?"

"He hasn't been very forthcoming with information, and I know he's trying to hide something."

Albus smiled at the Potions master's predictable behaviour, and he gladly told her everything he knew. It was only fair to give her all the details, she needed to be prepared for any possible consequences the spell might have for them. Albus was sure that there was more to be expected, other than the ability to see through a Disillusionment charm.

He would tell her about the possible bond with a Heart's Keeper, the possible friendship or even marriage, and everything else a bond entailed. What he didn't know, was that Severus knew that there could be more ramification, and hadn't told him. But seeing the remarkable feat of seeing through an otherwise impeccable charm told him that there was more to it, and he promised himself to have another look in the book.

"The ritual is called 'Heart's Keeper'," he began and proceeded to tell her all he remembered. When he told her the part about someone appearing who she trusted, he watched her reaction intently, wondering who she'd seen, but the only thing he offered him was two raised eyebrows.

She interrupted him occasionally.

"I did what? Gods, that's dangerous… and icky!" She shuddered once and listened to the rest of the story.

At the end of his tale she looked a little pale, but calm and composed.

"Why has he chosen that particular spell? It can't have been the only dark spell to find a missing person."

To Albus' pleasure and relief, she didn't sound accusing, only curious. "That, you will have to ask him," he said with sparkling eyes, earning himself a groan from her.

"Meaning, I will never find out," she grumbled. She took a deep breath and sat up even straighter.

"I can't feel a bond… I think. How can one tell if a bond has been formed?"

"I am not sure, but have you experienced any changes in your opinion or attitude to Severus?"

"Could you please refrain from calling him by his given name in my presence? It feels disrespectful," she said distractedly, as she began to think about how she though of the Potions Professor. "I still feel the same respect as before the spell, and I still find him interesting, if somewhat… difficult," she said diplomatically, making Albus smile widely.

She didn't know what to think about using Snape as her emotional crutch in the library, and his willingness to endure her blubbering, and decided to keep that episode to herself for the time being.

There were more important matters than a possible and rather undefined bond with a certain curmudgeon.

"I believe I have a funeral to plan."

XXXXX

It was more difficult that she had imagined. As her parents were Muggles, they would need to contact a Muggle solicitor to do everything the Muggle way.

They had decided to begin with the arrangements on Monday after lessons. Dumbledore would accompany her with his wand at the ready, in case he had to do any damage control or smooth over some inexplicable things.

Hermione was drained from the long talk, and nothing but bewildered when she only so much as tried thinking about the Heart's Keeper spell. Warily, she walked back to the Great Hall but couldn't walk inside.

Her talks with Snape and Dumbledore had been cathartic, but it didn't make it any easier to sit among joyous students, male ones at that, who always got to close to her. She already began to wonder, if her breakdown in Snape's arms had only been possible because she couldn't think about any dangers coming from the man due to the overload of grief.

She didn't believe so, as she felt oddly safe in his presence, as long as he didn't put on his villainous mask and attitude.

She shook her head, not getting any further with her thoughts as her tummy rumbled loudly. Making a quick decision, she made her way to the kitchens, hoping not to be found out by a teacher.

She smiled to herself when she tickled the pear by the not-so-secret entrance to the kitchens, loving the way the fake fruit wriggled on her fingertips. It had been a while for her to feel anything pleasant happening to her body, and she was absolutely starved for the tiniest attention, which shouldn't include full-body hugs or anything similarly overwhelming.

Her earlier tearful spectacle in Snape's arms being the exception! Why that was so, she still couldn't explain.

No, the sweet little tingling sensation was perfect. Instead of walking through the now unlocked door, she tickled the pear again, licking her lips in almost childish glee as it wriggled yet again. It was positively delightful, and she repeated her action three more times.

"Is little Miss coming in?" an elf asked politely, but with a just a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Sorry," Hermione replied and contritely followed the elf into the kitchen. Walking behind the small creature, she noticed the physical state it was in. His or her left arm was missing and two of the fingers of its right hand. Both ears were hopelessly mangled and looked as if something had chewed on the usually bat-like pointy things. The right foot looked oddly short, and only when she saw the elf from the side, did she realise that the entire front of said foot was missing, causing the elf to limp quite badly.

The elf stopped and waited for her to look up.

"Is Miss quite done with inspection?" it asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow in a manner Hermione had never observed in an elf, not that she knew that many – they all tended to make a wide berth around her.

"Sorry," she said yet again, feeling flustered with her monosyllabic answers and her rude behaviour.

"I'm Hermione," she said, trying to salvage the situation and stretched her hand out.

The elf looked at the offered hand with an unreadable expression but didn't take it. "I knows," he said and trotted off, not even offering her any food.

Dejectedly, Hermione let her hand fall and sat on a minuscule chair at a teensy table. It was known fact that students regularly broke into the kitchens, but that didn't mean that the elves were providing furniture for the rule breakers.

"I'm sorry for offending you," she muttered into the empty room, already dreading having to do back to the Great Hall for sustenance. Suddenly, a plate full of that day's fare was thrust under her nose and she looked at the elf that had brought it.

Elves looked quite identical to each other, but even Ronald Weasley would have recognised the elf again, unless there were more disfigured creatures working here.

"Thank you, I didn't mean to be rude," she said and tentatively held out her hand again.

The elf lowered it with a wry expression, pushing it down carefully with one clawed finger. Hmm, she never knew they could show so many human expressions. Dobby always looked a little mad with his wide toothy grin, while Kreacher looked like a thundercloud.

"We do not shake hands with humans," it explained. "Greeting amongst elves is different."

"But I'm not an elf," Hermione pointed out, and almost laughed at the eye roll from the small elf.

"I noticed," it said dryly. "Eat now." Then the elf was gone again, probably to tell his co-workers about the crazy witch in their midst.

So she ate alone, but she found it to be an improvement to the Great Hall. She pushed the plate away after eating about half of what had been on it. Her stomach wasn't used to such heavy meals, and in the infirmary she had lived off porridge and nourishing broth.

Besides, she really needed to get up, before her bones protested against her hunched-over position even more.

Just as she was about to get up, the elf was back and handed her a bowl filled with ice cream and fruit. Hermione took it, surprised by the dessert. Ice cream was only served on special occasions, and it never had such an overload of kiwis on it, if she remembered correctly.

"Thank you, erm…" she didn't know the elf's name, or sex for that matter, and she waited for the elf to introduce itself, but waited futilely. "Well, I'm really full. I'm sorry, I can't eat much more," she said, trying to give it back.

"Just eat what you can," it said and left again, disappearing to where the other elves could be heard labouring over the food, that was probably still served to the rest of the school right then.

"I'm sorry for interrupting," she called after it, and almost dropped the bowl, as her chair and table resized themselves to a more fitting state. "Thanks," she said with a smile and tucked into the already melting delicacy.

She had already decided to come back here for dinner.


	15. Chapter 15

Harry found her by the lake, watching her rock back and forth on her feet as she squatted near the shore.

He accidentally stepped on a twig that snapped with an impressive noise for such a flimsy thing. He actually stopped walking, raising his hands in a soothing fashion, before getting closer.

"Hey," he greeted her and sat down next to her, making sure to keep a safety distance between them. "We haven't seen much of you today."

"I've been busy," she said.

He just nodded. "Don't get angry with me, but… what really happened?"

She lowered her eyes to the ground and sucked her lower lip into her mouth, a sure sign of nervousness. Her reaction, small as it was, told Harry that she hadn't been quite truthful with him, and the story about the accident had just been a smoke screen.

"I'm not ready to tell," she told him, even though the words burned on her lips, trying to get out, but she refused to talk about it yet.

"Why?"

"Because it hurts." She looked at him directly, willing him to accept her decision. Her stony expression made it clear that he'd not like the consequences if her were to push fro information.

"But…"

She smacked her lips in annoyance. Leave it to Harry to try and change her mind.

"But," he repeated with a stronger voice, realising that she was about to shut him down, and was adamant to at least try and get through to her. "We are friends, and we are supposed to tell each other everything, so we can get each other through the rough times. We can help, if you'd let us in." The last words held just too much reproach, no matter how unintentional, and Hermione clamped up.

"Forcing me to talk about it will only satisfy your curiosity and not ease my pain, Harry Potter," she said coolly and left.

The Boy-with-slumped-shoulders moodily threw a stone into the lake, wondering what to tell Ginny when she' ask about his success with inviting Hermione to a little pampering session with his girlfriend. It hadn't even been his intention to talk about what had happened to his almost-sister, but to render a simple invitation. And now, he'd have to try and get her to talk to him again…

Another stone found a wet demise as it landed in the water with a reproachful splash.

XXXXX

Severus was alternating between resting agitatedly on his sofa and pacing his sitting room floor.

He'd not seen Miss Granger since watching her walk to the Headmaster's office, and wondered if or when she might storm down to the dungeons to try and pummel him for using the spell.

He might have questioned the use of the Heart's Keeper spell before, but only now he truly feared the consequences. It didn't matter how much it would affect him, he had learned to live with every hardship life threw at him, but he should have considered what the aftermath would mean for her.

His thought had been going in circles for hours, mostly revolving about one thing: how reckless he had been.

How could he have been so utterly irresponsible? He had used a spell without knowing everything about it; since when did he act so prematurely? Finding her had been imperative, and it had made him careless. Why? Just because he found her... intriguing?

She had every right to make him accountable. All he waited for was for, was for her to do so.

He waited for the fateful knock and was momentarily shocked when his punishment came from a different source; his arm burned bright hot. He was being summoned.

XXXXX

With something like joy, Hermione returned back to the kitchens for dinner, tickling the pear exactly five times, only to be a little disappointed when no one came to stop her irksome behaviour.

She walked down the few steps that led into the vast room, and stopped at the bottom to avoid being run over by a horde of greenish creatures with spindly arms that continuously snapped as they did their magic.

Maybe she should have waited until the hordes of children and teachers had been served. She had already stepped backwards and rescued herself onto the step of the stairs, when she rose into the air and found herself flying gently above the elves that scuttled under her like ants.

Her flight was slow and gave her no reason to scream. Her eyes suddenly found the familiar face of the mangled looking elf, and she smiled tremendously as she realised he was the one responsible for her flight across the kitchen.

For some reason, his voice was deeper than earlier, and she was convinced that it was a male elf. It even looked more manly, and not so a-sexual anymore.

"You is too early," he said loudly over the noise, looking rather stern, but her landing on a single chair in a safe corner was gentle.

"I'm sorry," she said, meaning it, not wanting to impose.

He muttered something under his breath, and she was sure that it had not been an endearment, but a bowl popped onto her lap the next second, full of creamy potato and leek soup.

"Careful, it's hot," she heard him say and then she lost sight of him.

"Thank you," she called anyway and liked to think that he heard her, for a spoon appeared in her hand the next moment.

Slowly she ate her soup, closing her eyes in bliss as it ran thick and smooth over her tongue, tantalising her taste buds. The soup had been the only meal her father had known and liked to cook, but it didn't compare to what the elves managed to produce.

She successfully held her tears at bay, and smiled a little tragically at the reminder of her dad. She'd always been his little princess, despite behaving more like a tom-boy. He had loved her as she was, and hadn't tried to exchange her beloved Lego sets with a Barbie doll. When she wanted to play mud monster, he had gladly stood in the puddles to screech in fright again and again to please the dirt-streaked child that ran laughing through the bushes.

A single drop of salty liquid splashed into her empty bowl, and she finally looked up with moist eyes to take the proffered tissue the elf held out.

"I'm not crying," she told him, though.

"But your nose is somewhat clogged," he said dryly.

She didn't hear the amused snort from him as she blew her nose forcefully, too absorbed by feeling the absurd softness of the paper tissue.

It seemed to be of very good quality and she handed it back, squawking incredulously when the elf simply vanished it with a disdainful sniff, wiping his clawed hands on his apron.

"It's only kitchen roll," he said as if talking to a child, pointing at a nearby roll of the stuff.

"Hmm, I wish there was toilet paper like that," she mused.

"There is," he retorted gleefully. "Waits here, you must eat dessert."

The kitchen didn't look like a war zone anymore, and only a few elves still hurried through it. Where Hermione sat was the preparation zone, full of ingredient-filled cupboards, storing and cooling cabinets, implement-laden shelves, drawers and work benches. The actual cooking zone was around the corner. It was the biggest kitchen she had ever seen and it always smelled delightful.

The elf came back with what turned out to be plum cake, drenched in vanilla sauce.

"First the ice cream with kiwis and now this!" She grinned widely and began to eat, making little humming noises all the time. "They are my favourites," she mumbled around a mouth full.

"I knows," the elf said, looking at her wistfully. Then he snapped out of it. "Good night, little Miss," he said and bowed slightly, popping away the next second.

XXXXX

Hermione had stayed outside for as long as curfew allowed, and was now sitting in a lonely armchair far away from the others.

She wished she was still a Prefect, but it had been her own decision to avoid the responsibilities of that post. Dumbledore had asked her earlier if she wanted her post back, but she had declined; she didn't think she would make a good Prefect this year.

Her badge was still somewhere at home, she mused, but didn't want to think about that anymore. Dumbledore's chosen replacement Rosalie Redwood, a smart and willowy sixth year would, make a fine Prefect! Maybe she could talk some sense or maturity into Ron who was still a Prefect, but too immature in Hermione's opinion.

So far, he hadn't used his superior position against Hermione, but only because he was avoiding her. That would surely change at some stage.

The common room emptied slowly and Harry and Ginny walked through the portrait hole together, hand in hand and with suspiciously mussed hair. They spotted her and after exchanging a look, they came over.

"Yes?" Hermione asked guardedly, wondering if they would both gang up on her to get information out of her.

Harry looked sheepish and plopped down by her feet, only blushing lightly when Ginny copied him and landed in his lap.

"Hermione, I have to apologise for this thick-headed young man, who seems to have trouble accepting someone's need for time and space," Ginny said with a wry smile at the man in question.

Harry cleared his throat roughly. "Yes, erm, I've been told I have a helper complex, and should learn to suppress it on occasion."

Hermione felt oddly cheered by the sight of the sweet couple, who still had their whole life in front of them. They would make a great couple, and they would provide their future children with everything they could need for a happy life.

A happy family…

She gulped and put on a smile. Being happy for them didn't erase her own grief over the loss of her own loved ones, and she blinked rapidly to keep the tears hidden.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asked, earning himself a light smack on the arm by the girl in his lap. "I'm not being too inquisitive; I'm just worried," he defended himself with a pout.

"I'm okay," Hermione told them with a thick voice, not wanting to see them squabble.

Ginny sighed. "Yes, Hermione, crying is a sign of happiness," she said, sarcasm dripping from every word, but she smiled understandingly.

"It can be," Hermione said, and sniffed a little, when Ginny stroked her leg soothingly, which only made her tear up more. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes," the younger girl said, and removed her hand. "Harry was supposed to ask you if you wanted to spend an evening of pampering with me. I've found that the Room-of-Requirement can provide everything you need for a few relaxing hours."

"When?"

"Whenever you want, really. No rush."

With a vague promise to at least think about it, Hermione was left alone again. Sitting quietly in her corner she watched the room empty slowly, until everyone had left for bed. Reluctantly, she made to follow.

Lavender and Parvati were sitting in the middle of the room, giggling over something from the newest edition from Witch Weekly. From experience Hermione knew that this night would be a long one; the two witches would be discussing the latest make-up tips, and other 'vital' news for hours.

Without giving or receiving the smallest greeting Hermione went straight to the bathroom, only to notice that all the towels had been used and were dripping wet and strewn haphazardly on the floor.

Using a Drying and a Cleansing Charm would not make the towels hygienic enough to be used again, and Hermione decided to shower tomorrow morning, hoping the house-elves would start their day early and help clear this mess.

After doing her ablutions, she went to bed, hiding behind the curtains of her bed and the added charms to keep every noise outside. Forlornly she stared at the ceiling, feeling her world implode around her, crumbling like a house of cards in the slightest breeze.

Throughout the day, the life, laughter and problems of others distracted her from her own loneliness and sorrows. But now, with nothing and no one to keep her mind on other things, her thin façade of normalcy threatened to collapse under bone-deep anguish and soul-crushing misery. Shame and regret mingled and turned the floor under her feet into quicksand, ready to swallow her alive.

Blood poured from her lower lip under the pressure of her teeth, as she bit down to keep silent. She willed her shaking body to calm, her fear of being found in such a state only added to her anxiety.

The weirdest thing of all was that she knew, she just _knew_, that there was something that could help her heal, help her recover. Her entire being yearned for that certain something, and she felt an irresistible pull...

Her arm rotated blindly through the cloying air, stretching heavenwards, waiting and hoping for relief - -

If only she knew what she searching for….


	16. Chapter 16

Miles away, Severus Snape was having a hard time putting one foot in front of the other, as he kept gasping for breath. He was getting enough air into his lungs, he was sure of it, for he felt no dizziness and wasn't light-headed in the least.

But his damn chest was killing him and the other Death Eaters were looking oddly at him, as he stood to the side of the fighting arena, pulling repeatedly on his clothes to rid himself of the unbearable tightness.

That went on for over an hour, and then stopped, making him doubt his sanity. He wasn't dumb enough to forget that the same pain had molested him before in the presence of Miss Granger, and he even acknowledged that she might have something to do with it, but the girl was miles away, and should be tucked in her bed by now.

He had no explanation and tried to make up for his poor performance in the first few duels before.

The fights had taken on a decidedly Muggle feel, as fistfights and other physical moves had been allowed, and even wished for, by their crazed leader.

Most duels were now between two men only. Snape was called into the middle of the room, getting ready to face McNair, a particularly mean and vicious man with a body like a brick wall.

All Snape had to put against him was his speed and agility. It didn't stop him from getting punched and kicked by his sparring partner, who took the opportunity to beat the erstwhile best fighter among the ranks to a bloody pulp.

Snape heard the bones of his nose break and hardly flinched; it was about the fifteenth time in his life that he had to hear that particular noise. He tried to stop the uncontrollable flood of tears that pooled in his eyes. Not that he was actually crying, but the pain itself automatically brought moisture to his eyes.

Severus was just about to use his partners shock over his lack of reaction to the broken proboscis, and let his fist fly forward. It did connect with McNair's cheekbone, but Severus had no time to relish the moment as more pain blossomed in his chest. With a gasp of surprise, he sank to his knees, rubbing his chest. He dimly saw the boot coming before it connected with the side of his head.

"Snape, I've had quite enough of your distracting show. Step closer," the Dark Lord ordered and watched the lank man get up after regaining consciousness.

Severus tried to breathe normally, but heard himself inhale like a drowning man every few seconds. His chest felt as if a corset had been strapped around it.

"What is the reason for your behaviour? Were you hit by some curse?" the evil wizard asked out of curiosity and not an ounce of worry.

"I do not know what causes this," Severus managed to say without a single gasp, but drew a deep breath just afterwards.

"Get this sorted out; you're useless to me in this state." With a mild bout of Crucio for his poor performance, Severus was allowed to leave.

He quickly Apparated back to Hogwarts, getting quite worried by the whistling he created with every other breath. The infirmary was his only goal, hoping that Poppy could figure out what was wrong with him.

He strode through her office and knocked on the door that led to her quarters.

Poppy blinked at him tiredly, arranging her ill-fitting bathrobe around her frame, trying to cover her nightshirt unsuccessfully.

"Severus, what's wrong?" she asked with a yawn, and he returned the greeting with a meaningful wheeze.

"Well, then, let's get you out of your clothes," she said breezily and smirked to herself at his panicked panting.

Kindly, she reassured him: "Just your pretty chest, my dear."

Severus couldn't give a sharp retort at the moment and did as he was told, flinging himself onto the bed willingly to allow Poppy to work on him.

Her wand roamed over his exposed chest and even his clothed lower extremities, her frown deepening with every scanning spell, not comforting him in the least.

"There is nothing wrong with you, other than the mild damage to your nerve endings from the Crucio, and the broken nose and the scrapes. Your lungs work fine; your thorax isn't constricted in the least…" she explained with a bewildered voice. "As odd as it sounds, it must be coming from here," she added, pointing at his skull with a finger.

"Am I going mad?" he asked in a hushed voice, fearing her answer.

"No, your brain is just as it should be," she muttered distractedly, her own brain thinking hard for an explanation for this odd phenomenon. She didn't get anywhere and distracted herself by healing his nose; making him hiss when the spell hit him with no warning.

Gingerly he touched his still swollen appendage, only to have Poppy roughly pull his hand away.

"Hands off," she said and glared. "What is it with men and investigating every healed injury?" she asked and healed the other bumps and bruises he had brought home.

Severus warred with himself, quite uncomfortable with revealing what was going through his mind, but maybe the nurse could help or at least confirm his suspicions.

"It… it could be the ritual," he rasped with painfully dry throat. The pain in his chest had vanished by now, but he was concentrating on not blushing too much and didn't notice.

Her eyes bored into his, and he gulped; the matron could be so scary sometimes, especially when information was being kept from her.

"What are you talking about? The ritual you used to find Miss Granger with? Albus mentioned a ritual, but nothing more." She saw him nod slightly, "What is that ritual?" she asked briskly.

"It's known as the Heart's Keeper…" He yelped when her fingernails dug into his biceps. "Ouch, woman!"

She stepped back with huge eyes, staring at him unblinkingly for a long moment.

"Poppy?" he asked carefully, not keen on fining out what she would say once she snapped out of her weird speechlessness. "Do you know the spell?"

"I've heard of it once, that was years ago." She sat down next to him on the bed, and looked at nothing as she remembered. "It was a couple who was very much in love with each other…" She looked at him suspiciously.

But Severus was mindful to keep his face blank, not quite understanding why he was feeling as if he had to hide something.

She refrained from investigating further and told him what she knew. "They were affected by the oddest inexplicable things: She could sense his presence when he was within a one mile radius; she could sense his moods without seeing him… I don't remember anything else. Her parents feared for her health, as the whole thing happened at the height of You-know-who's first reign.

"Anyway, when it came out that her lover had used a dark spell to find her after she'd been missing they were separated, while people tried finding a way to reverse the effects. You see, her parents didn't want the half-blood sullying their pure-blood daughter. When nothing helped, they had the man murdered. The young woman fell into a deep depression and was admitted to St. Mungo's later. She never left, and as far as I know she committed suicide."

Severus had gone pale and stared at the matron with a never seen before expression of panic and helplessness. Severus Snape in mild shock was a sight to remember.

"Have you noticed anything other than the chest pains?" Poppy wanted to know, and shrieked softly, when instead of answering, he stood hastily and made to leave.

"We need to test this, Severus. You should find out more about this connection to Miss Granger, if there really is one. The effects are not reversible, so you cannot ignore this," she called after him, getting louder the further he got away.

Severus was indeed in mild shock, after having his suspicions more or less confirmed, but he was also feeling something that unbalanced his highly trained attitude of being unmoved by almost everything: euphoria.

That's what had him flee before Poppy could detect his unsavoury reaction. Surely she would expect nothing but disgust from him, after hearing he might have a bond with the Gryffindor pest. He could not give himself away, and he feared his own feelings.

All well and good to silently take appreciate Miss Granger from afar, but a bond would likely bring them closer together. As much as the man in him appreciated the possibility, the teacher in him forbid it. It wasn't even that he was lusting after her fanatically, but he was undeniably intrigued by her. She was bringing some comfort into his life by merely existing, and he would treasure every single eye contact between them as if it were a caress.

Not for the first time he asked himself the question: What the hell had he been thinking by choosing that ritual?

XXXXX

Hermione had fallen asleep at one stage from sheer exhaustion. On some level she still realised how tired one could get by feeling an overload of grief.

Her sleep hadn't been very restful, and she woke with an uncomfortable feeling of alarm. It was unpleasant to wake in such a fashion, and had her alert despite her bone-deep fatigue.

She was up in a sitting position within a heartbeat of waking, knowing that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep any time soon.

But she wanted and needed sleep; it allowed her to forget her worries for a while. To her own surprise, she had no nightmares about the past events, merely dreams she could hardly remember that left her feeling unsettled. She would accept that in exchange for a few hours of relative normalcy.

Her head peeked through her curtains, checking on the other girls. The interesting clicking noise Lavender always made when she slept was very discernable in the nightly silence; it must be some sort of snore, Hermione had always thought, but never asked.

Hermione climbed out of bed then, and made the long trek to the infirmary again, worried that the matron would not let hers stay.

She wasn't worried about being found out after hours, though. If anyone asked, she was just a student who had problems sleeping and only one of Madam Pomfrey's potions would help. Yes, that sounded reasonable; maybe even the nurse herself would accept her excuse.

The torches lining the walls were still giving off a strong light and Hermione didn't regret not bringing her wand. The sight of the flickering shadows her feet cast on the cracked flag stones were mesmerising and she walked with her head down; she knew the way without needing to see it.

The last flight of stairs loomed and she gritted her teeth and walked up as quickly as she could, making the space between her legs burn faintly. Poppy had said to 'exercise' that area somehow, probably meaning in a relaxing and pleasurable way, but Hermione liked this way more. At least it didn't involve having to touch herself down there…

She was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from whimpering, and upped her pace. Her legs ached as well, by then, but she promised herself to make the remaining few steps as well.

She felt weak and helpless enough all the time; she needed just some moment where she could prove herself. A little pain was a just punishment for being so utterly weak at the one time she could have proven that magic was a great thing, that her six years at Hogwarts had taught her something...

Only seven more steps and she didn't slow. Her eyes were on the floor, when suddenly the reflection of the fiery torches on sleek dark stones vanished, and she slowed down while looking up.

She hadn't expected to see anyone at almost three o'clock in the morning, and was therefore unprepared for the sight of a pale face framed by pitch-black hair. His unfathomable eyes arrested her breath and made her stop moving. Stiff as a board, she tried to escape the man, who looked so very forbidding and intimidating by nature. She wasn't afraid of _him_, as such, but seeing a man appear out of nowhere threw her for a loop and made her flight instinct flare up.

It was just a very untimely moment to clam up, for she was still on the stairs, and she felt herself lose her footing – falling backwards.

'It's just Snape,' she told herself, and some part of her was quite glad to see him, but her body and mind only reacted to the shock she'd suffered and were intent on escape and bringing some distance between her and the supposed danger, not caring that she might crack her spine or skull on her way down.


	17. Chapter 17

When he'd rounded the corner, he was momentarily shocked to see the one person that seemed to invade his mind and his life more as much as only one person had ever done: Lily Evans. She would forever be Lily Evans to him, and he would never sully her beautiful name by putting the cursed name 'Potter' behind it.

He had no time to think much about either woman at the moment, as the one with the more eccentric hair was getting closer at a fast rate.

Point deduction wasn't anywhere on his mind, he only thought about what he might say once she noticed him.

His lips were already parting slightly, and snapped shut again, when she looked up. At first he noticed the undeniable physical pain that lined her face that was quickly replaced by sudden fear. He had seen those expressions uncountable times in his life, and not only during his time as an active Death Eater.

She came to a stop and leaned backwards, an action he was also very acquainted with.

He was crossing his arms to protect himself from the slight hurt at seeing her fear of him, when he noticed that she wasn't stopping with leaning backwards.

He had no time to process the situation and watched helplessly as her seemingly frozen body fell down the stairs, here eyes still locked with his.

He struggled to untangle his arms, trying to get to his wand, which was hidden in his sleeve, but even as he moved, he knew he would be too slow, and also too far away to try and grab her.

With a sickening thud he heard her make impact with the stones and cried out "Arresto Momentum" loudly, the fear making his voice hoarse. She was now hovering over the stairs, still in contact with the sharp edges of the stairs from her neck down to her bottom. Her head and leg were in the air, as she had unconsciously rolled up her body to keep her weakest body parts safe.

Severus flew down the stairs, his mouth dry, and the adrenaline coursing through his body made him horribly jittery. The whole situation had only lasted a few seconds, yet it had seemed to happen in slow motion and had appeared longer because of it.

Her face was frozen in a grimace of fear and dread, her eyes screwed shut tightly.

"I didn't bring you back, only to see you die on some fucking stairs, Granger," he hissed, quite glad that she was unable to hear him. Without releasing the spell, he levitated her stiff form back to the infirmary, hoping that Poppy hadn't gone back to sleep yet.

She hadn't and screeched in disbelief over having the young woman back for treatment.

"What in the world happened now?" she asked, but the glower she sent at Severus only conveyed her worry, and not any belief that he might have been at fault.

"She ran up the stairs, and when she saw me she got scared and… toppled over backwards," he muttered. He had scared many students to the point of tears and beyond, but never did it have such disastrous results.

And he hadn't even meant to scare her, dammit! He had just been standing there, doing nothing.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Poppy exclaimed with a long exhalation. "It's only a mild concussion, and a few bruises on her back. Nothing to worry about." Now that she was sure about the non-severity of the injuries, she ended the spell that had kept her immobile.

Snape and Poppy were towering over the student, waiting for her first reaction upon being released from the spell. Hermione hadn't been unconscious after the fall and should be back to normal awareness now.

Hermione curled up even more, bringing her hands to protect her head. When the repeated impact she'd been waiting for didn't happen, she hesitantly lowered her self-made shield and opened one cautious eye. Was she at the bottom of the stairs already? If so, she seemed to have survived the fall and felt miraculously fine...

Poppy was the first thing she saw and she opened the other eye, too. "In danger of sounding mad again: did I just fall down some stairs, or not?" Hermione asked shakily.

"You bloody well did," a deep voice rumbled dangerously. Now that Hermione seemed out of danger, Snape felt anger consume him, and erating her for her stupidity was better than trying to hug her!

"What were you doing out of bed at this hour?" He ignored Hermione's attempt to answer. He didn't really want to know, just blow off steam. "No wand on you, no damn slippers either. Next time, look where you're going," he barked, his face close to hers.

His chest heaved from the little exertion and he breathed deeply, rearing back as if slapped as his oversized nostrils detected a fruity scent. His brain catalogues memories preferably by smell, and he recognised the smell quickly as the one he'd smelled after drinking that fateful potion on the day of her rescue.

"What's that smell?" he asked, forcing his face to portray distaste and not the the longing to step closer and inhale deeply.

Hermione watched him with big eyes, shaking from the small drama she'd been in just a moment ago, not able to take affront at his tone. It was mind-boggling to wait for your neck to snap one moment, and to lay in a soft bed the next, without knowing what happened.

"M-my body lo-lotion?" she ventured, not knowing what else he might mean.

She was somewhat distressed, the shock still sitting in her bones. She felt the weird pull again, and this time she knew what her hand was searching for.

"It's you," she breathed and didn't give him time to retreat this time. With one forceful tug, she pulled him closer and pressed one hand against his chest, ignoring his wide-eyed expression.

The reaction was instantaneous. The noises they both made were somewhere between a groan and a shout, while their eyes bulged and their breaths stuttered.

Severus fell to his knees and Hermione turned on her side to keep herself tethered to him. It wasn't a conscious movement at all, but it looked perfectly orchestrated.

"Unbelievable," Poppy whispered and sat down in mild shock a few feet away, watching in case something happened to them. Well, something other than the uncontrolled moaning and sighing that went on between them…

There was no great explosion between them, no magical wind that caressed their faces and mussed their hair, no music appearing out of nowhere, no fanciful aura of light surrounding them...

No, the only thing one could see with mere eyes were tiny red spots that danced between them, and slowly raced up and down Hermione's arm, seemingly flowing in and out of their chests.

It was inordinately pretty, Poppy thought, and tried not to feel like a voyeur. She concentrated on the small specks of light, wishing she could take notes, but it was regrettably illegal to do so as the spell was of a dark nature. She hummed to herself to shut out the continued pleasurable moans the two people exchanged.

It didn't quite work, and her mind provided her helpfully with sexual situations that contained one naked Potions master, caught up in a haze of thrusting, licking and clutching…

Oh dear. Where had that come from? "Miss Pomfrey!" she scolded herself in a whisper, reminding herself of the words she had heard so often during her own school years. She'd been an incorrigible day-dreamer.

Meanwhile, Severus was clutching the edge of the mattress with white-knuckled hands, breathing loudly through his mouth while his whole body was caressed by a fiery wave of molten comfort, wrapping him in the safest cocoon he had ever imagined.

"Is that from the ritual?" Hermione asked in a faint voice, and he could only nod jerkily.

He felt the undeniable connection to the young woman gazing breathlessly into his eyes and into his very soul. He didn't suddenly know her any better than before, yet he felt anchored to her, as if being without her would be unimaginably cruel.

She wasn't a stranger any longer, but a kindred spirit that had lurked at the periphery of his life for years without being allowed to make contact with him. She had always had the promise of being his guide and source of comfort and peace, and only the spell that brought that out in the open.

He'd known her for years, but only now he could let her in. He didn't have a chance not to once she had forced entry by touching him, but he couldn't hold it against her, not with these glorious feelings flowing through his very being.

He wanted to accept her, wanted to allow her access and vice versa for the rest of his days, but he was afraid of opening himself along with his secrets and fears, and he couldn't let that happen, no matter that she was what he'd always yearned for: acceptance and understanding.

He wrenched himself away from her with an unholy cry and a deep pain that brought him near collapse.

He staggered out of the room, bypassing Poppy and ignoring Hermione's heart-wrenching cries. They would both have to learn to go back to normal, back to where they ignored each other, back to where they suffered alone…

"Oh no you don't," he heard through the haze he was in, and turned just in time to be flung about by a much younger and supposedly weaker woman. Her bodily control was just as off as his, but her uncontrolled swaying brought her crashing into him, making his feet slip out from under him.

Both went down, landing in an ungainly heap on the cool floor with Hermione sprawled across his torso. She should have been the one to go rigid at the close contact, yet it was him that felt uneasy.

"Please don't," he said and closed his eyes in the faint hope that she could sense his regret about the whole situation and not punish him more for it.

"I'm not trying… to hurt you," she pressed out, still out of breath. "I want to understand that spell." She grasped his lapels and pressed her head against his quivering chest, making him keen.

What an agonising paradise… He loved the feel of her against him, purely because he was finally indulging in the physical closeness and bodily contact of another human being that he'd always yearned for. He had hungered for small innocent caresses for so long, and to finally be allowed to feel that, brought tears to his eyes.

Hermione felt how his hitching breath made his thorax jump under her, and she raised a hand to stroke his cheek, feeling a true smile blossom on her face as he gingerly leaned into her touch.

This man, this body and this smell felt like home, and she silently vowed never to give this up again. There was no sexual greed, no need to mount the poor overwhelmed man. She craved the feeling of contentment his nearness promised and she needed it to keep sane.

"I won't let you ignore this," she told him shakily. "You used the spell, now face the consequences," she said kindly, not meaning to be reproachful in the least.

"Silly cow," he croaked, making her laugh in sheer bewilderment at hearing such a term coming from his sophisticated lips.

She looked up in his contorted face, combing her cool fingers through his stringy hair. "I need this – _we_ need this. I can feel it."

Severus still lay immobile under her, his arms making no move to hold the treasure he had found to him, in fear of not being able to let go again. He looked at her then, uncaring of his glassy eyes. "We can't just… grope each other when we…" He shook his head a little, totally befuddled by how quickly his life had just changed.

"We wont, I won't harass you. But I will be a constant presence in your life from now on," she warned with new-found self-assurance. "This is good... and pleasant. I want this."

It was the first time, since having her life unbalanced by what happened in France, that she felt some direction to follow, something worthy to pursue. It was the proverbial beacon of light in a dark night, and she couldn't help but steer towards it.

He looked at her for long moments, ingraining her needy and hopeful expression in his memory. He had done this; he had used the spell, and that made him responsible. He had always acknowledged his responsibilities, and he would acknowledge her. If he could protect Potter despit ehating the boy, it should be easy to deal with this young woman, especially since he found her so special.

"Get off," he muttered, severing eye contact. Well, maybe not that easy. It was too much; he wasn't used to so much contact, not used to so much pleasure from such simple touches.

"So you can run?"

"So I can relieve my bladder," he snarked, and calmed when his usual sarcasm was still working properly. He'd feared the bond would turn him into an emotional weakling.

It was a promising sign that she didn't blush or squeal in disgust as the mentioning of his bodily functions. She smiled almost shyly, and climbed off him.

Only then did they remember that they hadn't been alone, for Poppy Pomfrey waved at them stupidly, just as unsure as to how to proceed as them.

"Well, Hermione should really stay the night," the nurse began and received a bright smile from the girl, who quickly tried to smother it. "Don't think I haven't noticed your reluctance to sleep in your dormitory, but that is something for another day. And Severus… well, you know where the restroom is."

He came back only to find Poppy gone, and Hermione sitting up in 'her' bed, apparently waiting for him.

"Can we talk some more?"

He hesitated. "It's late, you should sleep." So should he really, but his busy mind probably wouldn't let him.

"I can't sleep now, not with the revelation we just had," she said, echoing his thoughts.

With a very put upon sigh that made her suppress a smile, he conjured a comfortable chair and sat by her bed, watching her snuggle into the bedding.

"Can you hold my hand?" she rushed out and blushed.

"I'm your teacher," he sighed, welll aware that he sounded more regretful that stern.

"And my Heart's Keeper, as it seems. And anyway, a teacher is supposed to care for the emotional welfare of his students," she said archly.

He actually rolled his eyes at her studious tone, but still made no move to grasp her extended hand.

"Just a finger then?" she tried. She was nothing if not persistant.

Her wide and pleading eyes were torture and he stretched out his index finger to touch hers, just to avoid any tears on her part.

Her lips curved happily and she gently caressed his finger, stroking up and down with her own, letting her soft flesh graze his rough calluses.

Keeping himself perfectly still, he felt his own breathing stabilise and slow down, and he noticed with astonishment that Hermione had trustingly closed her eyes in his presence. How unique.

"Tell me about the spell again," she told him, sounding more tired than just a moment ago.

He didn't answer right away, wondering how to express himself without sounding too mushy.

By the time he was ready to speak, she was overly silent despite her earlier voiced request to talk, and he kept his mouth shut. He liked the silence and certainly didn't complain about the small reprieve from talking. Shifting slightly, he got more comfortable, ignoring the cowardly voice that told him to race to his quarters and hide.

Her lips parted and her even breath told him she was asleep. Her soft caress ended but her finger lay entwined with his, and he soaked up her trust like the first warming rays of sunshine after a cold winter.

After years of shying away from all touch, _hers_ was finally the one his body could accept, could enjoy and grow addicted to.

Gods, what will Albus say?


	18. Chapter 18

Poppy got up early, and after spotting her two guests, she hurried out of her domain, trying to speak to the headmaster, before classes would start. She moved quietly, hoping not to wake the still sleeping couple. Snape's snores were everything but inoffensive, but the girl next to him didn't seem to care, and added her own soft noises to his cacophony.

With an amused snort, she left. She wanted to talk about the Heart's Keeper spell with Albus, hoping to exchange what they both knew.

Half an hour later, she returned with Albus and Minerva in tow. Poppy hadn't warned them about what to expect, and she grinned to herself as she waited for Minerva's, no doubt, prudish reaction.

Before McGonagall said anything, she turned to the Headmaster and boxed him hard on his upper arm, glaring at him for good measure.

"Minerva, what in the world…" He winced; the woman didn't hit like an old lady at all.

"You said it wouldn't lead to a relationship," she hissed quietly, not wanting to wake the slumbering people, no matter how enraged she acted. "And what does that look like to you?" she asked, pointing over at Severus and Hermione with a stern finger.

Albus cast a Silencing charm, wanting to finish this talk in peace.

Poppy snorted softly, making the other two look at her. "Ah, Minnie, when will you stop being so prudish?"

"When they make relationships between teachers and students legal," McGonagall said tartly. "Besides, I'm not prudish," she added petulantly, with a rosy glow to her cheeks.

"That might be true for when you're having sex yourself, but talking about it is not your strength," Poppy retorted, but hugged the other woman, making it clear that she was only teasing.

"I never thought he would…" Minerva said, tossing her head in confusion.

"Minerva, if you remember correctly, we said that finding your Heart's Keeper can lead to a fantastic and deep friendship, but could also end in a relationship," Albus told her, looking at her over the rim of hid glasses, like he always did to his students.

"But… but he was so sure that Miss Granger could never be anything to him," she lamented.

"Oh, Minnie, you know Severus. He believes there is no one out there on the entire planet that could see him for who he really is and even want to be a true friend," Albus reminded her.

"But we are his friends, aren't we? Aren't we enough?" she said meekly, knowing how selfish she sounded. She straightened. "I'm sorry. He deserves someone, she would make a great friend. I just wish… I wish they had found out under different circumstances, and perhaps a few years down the line...."

The three stepped closer to the still sleeping pair, and Minerva's lips thinned while her face got redder. Despite what she'd just expressed, it didn't sit well with her, seeing a teacher and a student so close.

Hermione was still on her back, somehow holding Snape's arm which was draped across her chest. Severus' chest seemed to have found a comfortable resting place on her mattress and was pressed against her hip.

"I believe they have found their Heart's Keeper," Poppy said.

"What do you mean _they_? I believed it to be one-sided." Minerva was just getting over one shock, and not ready for another one yet, and was getting more and more flustered.

"It's never one sided," Albus answered before Poppy could. "Poor Severus had staunchly believed that there was no chance in hell that he'd even have a Heart's Keeper, let alone that this particular student could have the potential to be anything more than an annoyance."

"I wonder of he has realised yet that he fulfils the same role for Miss Granger?" Poppy mused.

They all shared a moment of thoughtful silence, before Minerva spoke. "Shouldn't we ward the door? We don't need a student see this spectacle!"

Albus did just that, with a grin at Minerva's uneasiness, then he gently shook Severus' shoulder. "Wake up, my boy."

Snape woke slowly, putting one hand on Hermione's thigh and the other on her breast to push himself up. He turned sleepy eyes to the three people surrounding him, quite alarmed by Minerva's red face.

"Have you suffered from burns?" he asked worriedly, and heard Poppy cackle indecently.

The nurse had a momentary panic when she saw how Severus was touching her, waiting for the unavoidable fear on Hermione's face of being touched in such places. She'd had displayed so much unease in the presence of anything male, but she didn't seem to fear this man. Mind you, she had twitched in discomfort, but there was no fear. Instead, she was grinning in anticipation o fhis reaction when he noticed what he was doing.

"Have you quite finished fondling the girl?" McGonagall retorted, clenching her hands. It was to hard for her to accept the situation just yet.

Only then did Severus realise what exactly he was leaning on. With a baritone shriek, that somehow managed to sound quite manly, he pushed himself away from the girl, who he had only thought to be a most comfortable cushion, and promptly toppled over with his chair.

He scrambled to his feet, a distinct blush on his pale face, but it didn't even come close to the colour Minerva sported.

"Headmaster, I can explain. It's not what it looked like." He had been more at ease with accepting Miss Granger's innocent advances from earlier; now he was appalled. "We… I… she…" His frantic ramblings were stopped by Hermione's mild chuckle.

"You're digging yourself a nice deep hole," she told him gently.

He glared at her. "Watch your tongue," he warned.

She only rolled her eyes at him, much to the amused incredulity of the other teachers. She addressed Dumbledore. "We have only discovered another side effect of the ritual," she explained calmly.

"What was it?" Minerva asked keenly, ignoring Poppy's annoyed huff. She needed to know that they weren't doing anything indecent.

"Touching each other brings both of us a deep sense of comfort and calm; it was quiet astonishing, really. I only had to…"

"Touching? You're touching her?" Minerva asked her accusing question, frowing only in Severus' direction.

Hermione didn't like that one bit. "With all due respect: _I_ was the one touching him, not the other way round," she made clear, looking sternly at her Head-of-House, who cleared her throat at her overreaction.

"I see," McGonagall said, clearly not seeing it at all. Delicately, she asked her next question, hoping not to offend her student. "But you do know that relationships between teachers and students are forbidden?"

Severus growled angrily, but was happy to let Hermione speak, trusting her to find some appropriate words and deal with the situation. That fact alone was remarkable, but he was too angry to notice.

"I am aware, but this is not relevant for our situation. I'm sure I speak for both of us when I say that we are not looking for anything romantic or even just sexual," she began, surprising the others with her clear distinction between the two. "The ritual said that we it would bode well for a friendship, and I think we are quite amenable to that."

Hermione waited for Snape's reaction, but he only allowed himself not to contradict her. Agreeing with her was too much for him. She went on. "Friendships between a member of the faculty and a student are not forbidden, merely unusual, according to Hogwarts: A History."

"Quite right, my dear. May I ask one question?" Albus asked jovially, stroking Minerva's arm soothingly. Hermione nodded carefully. "It's been nagging me for some time. We all know that the spell was supposed to provide you with a vision of someone you trust," he began, and noticed the intense interest of every one around him. "Could you tell me, who it was you've seen?"

Hermione chewed on her lower lip before she looked over to her Potions Professor.

"Professor Snape," she said.

"What?" he asked harshly, not realising that this had been her answer, but he slowly understood by her meaningful look and the reactions of his colleagues.

Poppy laughed delightedly, whereas Minerva croaked like a frog in distress. Albus only smiled with a seemingly satisfied expression.

"Well, now that that is out, we can all return to our duties. Don't be late for your classes, Miss Granger," Albus turned to leave.

Minerva followed the Headmaster, not knowing how to deal with the entire situation. She didn't think Severus would abuse his position and the girl's vulnerability, but in the end he was just a man, who might be overwhelmed by the new feeling and the situation he's in. She feared that his own vulnerability would win over his morals.

Severus brought his shifty eyes to the student who was the most intriguing but vexing development in his life, and he had no idea how to proceed, despite the seeming understanding they'd had last night.

With a nod, he marched out of the room.

"Ready for your first day of classes, dear?" Poppy asked the only person left in the Hospital wing.

"Not at all," Hermione said with a wry grimace. "I'll survive," she added and helped Poppy right the bed.

The notion that Hermione was unprepared and unexcited by lessons was worrying the nurse, but all she could do was offer to be there in case Hermione needed someone to talk to.

"Thank you," Hermione said and left with slow steps.

"I'll keep this bed empty. Just in case," the nurse called after her, and noticed a faint blush on Hermione's face as she looked back over her shoulder.

XXXXX

Her first class was Transfiguration, and she couldn't for the hell of it, create the slightest bit of enthusiasm for turning a handkerchief into slippers. Why the hell would she ever need that spell?

She needed five tries to manage the new spell, and sat back with her arms crossed once she'd done it. Only then did she become aware of the whole class staring at her.

"What?" she hissed at Harry, who sat next to her.

"Well, it didn't change on the first try," he explained.

The annoyance that flared at that stupid remark was so much more than the situation allowed, and she was close to hexing the glasses off her worried looking friend's face, and to burn the fuzzy brown slippers that mocked her with their ugliness.

Couldn't she be a normal student for once? Was it really that noteworthy that she needed a few tries to master a spell? For fuck's sake, she was only human!

"Five points to Gryffindor," Professor McGonagall said with a smile, interrupting the awkward situation.

That was the final straw. "For what?" Hermione wanted to know, her voice as hard as her eyes. She didn't need to be coddled.

Minerva was taken aback. "For managing the spell so quickly. The others have been practising this for the last two lessons and still don't get it right."

"That was unnecessary, Professor, as it took me a few times as well, and it must be pretty disheartening for the others to continually be passed over for their achievements, no matter how slow." Hermione averted her eyes after her speech and furiously rubbed her finger tips together in a nervous fashion.

"Well, wasn't that thoughtful," Ron mocked quietly from the bench to the right. He had refused to sit with them, and was glaring daggers at both of his friends – or ex-friends, as it was.

"Yes, Ronald. That way even _you_ might get a measly point for turning your hanky into a fuzzy lump," Hermione shot back, not taking his immature crap any longer.

"You stupid bint; I wish you'd never returned. It was so much nicer without you here. Go back to France and stay there," he spat and poked his ugly furry handkerchief.

"Mr. Weasley," the teacher said with her eyes blazing, while pushing Harry back into his seat before things could get ugly. That, however, didn't leave her with a hand free to stop Hermione from getting off her seat.

"You fucking prat," the bushy-haired girl seethed, earning gasps from her classmates with her vocabulary. A rude Hermione Granger did not agree with the picture everyone seemed to have of her, and it threw them for a loop.

"France was so nice indeed," she cried, furious tears dripping down her chin. She poked the redhead in the chest with her wand, making him gulp with a defiant glare on his paling face. "You want to know my fondest holiday memory?" she asked; her voice shaky and brittle. Her left hand wound itself tightly in Ron's hair, yanking on it. "It was seeing my parents being slaughtered first and getting abducted and raped for a damn week afterwards. If you call that nice, I will rip your empty balls off and shove them up your arse!"

She was yelling now, and her voice broke on the last words, as her wand hand shook, finally scaring Ron shitless. He winced as her grip on his hair tightened and he wound himself helplessly in his chair.

The class was stunned and gaping at her with undisguised horror and disbelief on their faces. Only her Professor looked at her with compassion, and got her to loosen her murderous hold on the Weasley boy. She steered her out of the classroom, taking care to remove the wand from her hand; in hopes of stopping the purple sparks shooting from it.

"Everyone stays were they are, or you'll find yourself in detention," she said just before leaving her classroom. Her eyes rested on a shocked looking Potter, making it clear that she wouldn't allow him to attack his erstwhile best friend, no matter how much he deserved it.

The door closed and immediately the class erupted into chaos. Voices upon voices rand out loudly, as they discussed what had just happened. Only Harry and Ron were quiet. Harry's malevolent glare promised retribution and Ron knew that he couldn't play the 'You're-supposed-to-be-my-friend' card to get out of this.

He still didn't worry over Hermione's state very much; still too angry with her unfriendliness and too afraid of what the glaring Gryffindors would do to him later.

Everyone stopped what they were doing when a tortured scream from outside made their toes curl.

"I hate him," they heard the unmistakable voice from Hermione shout. "What - does it take - to open his eyes to the problems of others?" She spoke with short pauses, and her every gasp could be heard through the thick door. "I want my parents back!!!" The last came out in an anguished wail.

That tortured sound made Harry snap, and he ignored his teacher's warning, shooting out of his seat to punch Ron's nose.


	19. Chapter 19

A.N.: My holidays are over, and I won't be able to update daily anymore. I will probably only update at the weekend. My apologies, but real life will have to come first. To make up for that, I will give you chapters 19, 20 and 21 all in one go. Enjoy.

* * *

Down in the dungeons, Severus Snape stopped his predatory walk through the rows of students, as a by now familiar pain flared up right between his nipples.

"Dammit, Granger. If that's really you creating that pain, I will personally flay you alive," he hissed as he returned to sit behind his desk, forcing his worry down.

She should be in Transfiguration, right now. Couldn't Minerva cope with the girl?

XXXXX

A few floors higher, Minerva walked the pitifully crying girl down the corridor, away from the curious students in the classroom.

"How can I help?" she asked worriedly. "Would you like to see Poppy?" Her hand rubbed Hermione's back in soothing circles; it was the only body part Hermione was showing her, as she kept her blotchy face averted.

"No, but Professor Snape would be helpful, but I think he'll kill me for interrupting his class over a few tears," Hermione said miserably, her voice hitching now and then as she tried to calm herself.

Minerva silently agreed, and chose not to think further on Hermione's wish to see the taciturn Professor. "I think you should go and see Poppy, and get a Calming Draught," she proposed and was relieved when the young witch nodded.

"Do you want me to accompany you?"

"No, no, that's alright. I know the way," Hermione demurred and hastily ran down the corridor.

Minerva reluctantly returned to her class and put on her sternest expression, intending to make this lesson as memorable as possible for the Weasley boy. She steafastly ignored his bleeding nose, letting him stew for a while before she had to send him to teh infirmary.

Hermione meanwhile, ran aimlessly through the castle, not wanting to see anyone at the moment. Poppy and the infirmary where her nightly refuge and she didn't want to get too dependent on it during the day.

Walking to the dungeons was tempting, but she feared of pushing him away with molesting him right after promising him that she wouldn't.

The longer she ran the more her grief dissipated and turned manageable, and she was left with the familiar numb sadness that was her daily companion when she wasn't plagued by bouts of extreme anguish.

She reached the doors leading outside, but for some unknown reason she didn't want to see the beautiful lake on this late summer day. The sun was still shining, she knew, and she turned sharply to the left and hurried down to the dungeons, which seemed to suit her current mood better.

She purposely avoided the corridor that would lead to Snape's kingdom of terror – his classroom that was made to have his students shiver in fear, and chose another dark and mouldy hall.

Her mind was mostly on which corridor to turn into and which door to open next and nothing more; it was better than dwelling on her inexcusable breakdown in her first lesson. She didn't even want to think about having to return to classes and endure the stares and whispers of other students that would await her.

She sniffed wetly, wiped her nose uncaringly on her sleeve and ventured further into the growing darkness of the dungeons. She walked around uncountable corners, discovered two secret passages behind doors and slipped spectacularly on a flight of stairs that had appeared out of nowhere.

The walls around her were getting greener with every step she took, as the moss got thicker and thicker. The floor was more than just moist and incredibly slippy.

A thick-looking black door materialised out of the shadows in front of her and wouldn't budge with a simple 'Alohomora' spell. She tried a few more, still not overly confident when it came to using her wand. The spells seemed more sluggish than before, and she wondered if a new one might do some good. She couldn't feel the wonderful connection she'd always had with it anymore; it was nothing more than a random wand now.

When no spell she used made any difference, she was far from giving up, finding something worthy to puzzle over for the first time since coming back. Transferring her wand into her left hand, she touched the door with her right one, liking the grainy structure under her fingers, and pulled back when a hand print appeared on the dark wood, fearing she might have activated the wards.

Nothing happened, though. With a mental shrug, she brought her hand into contact with the door again, waiting with squinting eyes to be blasted backwards. Again, nothing happened, and she daringly brought her hand up to cover the spidery hand print.

To her astonishment and glee, there was a red glow between her flesh and the door, before it swung open with an ominous creak. She hesitated only slightly, driven onwards by the faint sound of churning water.

Lighting her wand did little to illuminate the pitch-black corridor that awaited her, and she made small steps as she walked inside. The door shut behind her with a dull thump, and she jerked in mild shock for a second before marching onwards.

The sound of water got louder the further she walked, until she was wading through puddles.

"Am I about to find the teachers secret hot tub?" She smirked to herself; feeling a little encouraged to continue by hearing her own voice.

The smirk died a sudden death as Hermione stumbled over a low border of some sort, and she braced herself for the impact with the ground. It never came, as she plunged headfirst into cold water.

In her surprise, her wand glided from her fingers, and as she resurfaced she was plunged in impenetrable darkness. It reminded her of her time in the cellar in France, only that she had exchanged a dry and dusty environment for a wet one.

"Fuck," was her first verbal reaction before she even began to think about what to do.

She tried turning into the direction she came from, but without seeing anything it was impossible to tell in which direction she was facing. She swam anyway, hoping to be lucky and find the ledge over which she'd tripped or at least a wall.

Her luck had apparently died with her parents and her hands found nothing as she paddled like a possessed possum.

"Dammit, the corridor was narrow; where are the fucking walls?" she screeched to herself, and swam into another direction. By now she had lost what little orientation she had.

Searching for calm, she stopped paddling for a second, trying to reach the ground, but her feet found no purchase. What she did notice was that there was a current she hadn't felt before. It wasn't strong, but had probably carried her far away from where she'd fallen in.

Hermione was a reasonably good swimmer, but with her rising panic, her stamina decreased. A hysterical keen escaped her throat and she was defiantly crying by now.

"A-accio wand!" she croaked loudly, but nothing happened. She tried it five more times, her voice getting feebler as time dragged on.

Her limbs felt weak and numbed from the cold water. Her movements got jerky and she had difficulties staying above the water. She bent her head backwards, as this was the only way she could still breathe through her mouth.

Hermione didn't see how she could escape her wet prison and she wailed miserably. She didn't want to die. Well, that's an improvement from desperately wanting to join her parents, she thought with badly-times sarcasm. Everyone would treat her death as suicide; if they ever found her body, that was.

After sinking below the surface three terrible times, she decided on a new plan, seeing as there was no other way. Taking a deep breath she began to float and not fight against the current any longer.

Wide-eyed she rushed through the darkness, hearing the water get louder and feeling her speed pick up.

"Let it be a way outside," she said to herself with chattering teeth. She was hardly finished with her words, when her head smacked painfully into something incredibly hard. Warm blood poured from her nose, but she had no time to voice her pain as the strong current dragged her under and swirled her around, taking her wherever it wanted.

Her lungs burned and she fought it as long as she could, even though she had little hoped that she was on her way out of there. Her body slammed into something else, and she wanted to scream out in pain, but as her head slammed against the same hard obstacle ended any possible reaction. Her blackened world couldn't get any darker as she lost consciousness, and she knew no more.

XXXXX

Fawkes sat happily on his perch, preening his feathers, while Dumbledore busied himself with paperwork.

Something made him turn towards the window, and he flew the tiny distance to peer out of it. He watched the squid, wondering why it was so active at this time of day, when he saw the reason.

With an alarmed squawk it flew to his human, and pinched the gnarled hand urgently.

"What is it, Fawkes?" the old wizard asked, but was already on his feet to follow the phoenix. He also saw the squid, realising that it was playing with something. The toy was chucked into the air, and that's when he realised what the toy was: a student.

"Alert some teachers," Albus roared and sprinted out of his office. His arthritic legs were slower than he wanted, but they got him to his destination. He trained his wand on the squid, ready to fire, when the creature came towards him, keeping the student in a cautious tentacle.

Albus turned back to the castle, hearing fearful shouts coming from behind him. Poppy, and Severus were on their way, and Albus would have found some amusement in their different running styles, were it not for the possibly dead student they were coming for.

"Miss Granger!" the nurse screeched, and skidded on the grass before falling on her posterior. Severus upped his pace as he also recognised the person, and ran past his fallen colleague without remorse.

"Don't attack," Albus shouted as he saw that Severus had his wand trained on the huge purplish animal.

Dumbledore looked back to the lake, waiting for the rapidly approaching squid to get just a little bit closer so they could levitate the girl to safety. He stepped back in surprise when Severus ran into the shallow water beside him. He had either been too fast to stop in time, or he was just too impatient to stand impotently beside the Headmaster.

With a growl, Snape walked in deeper and closed the remaining distance to the enormous beast, and Levitated the unmoving body out of the slimy tentacle. He picked her out of the air, and stumbled to the shore, putting her down gently. He was glad to see her chest rise, but her breath rattled in her chest, and was very irregular.

"Poppy!" he shouted, not realising that the woman was already standing next to him.

"I'm here, let me work," she said breathlessly, not used to so much running. She was glad that she had learned how to scan a patient without having to say the spell out loud, and she used that time to calm her erratic breathing.

"Anapneo," she said forcefully and everyone watched as water expelled itself from Hermione's lungs without so much a cough. The rhythm of her breathing stabilised, yet she hadn't regained consciousness. "Another concussion," she said with disbelief and checked for more hidden injuries.

"Did she… Was it… She can't be suicidal," Severus said with an audible gulp, looking at the others to see their reaction, desperately wanting to hear a resounding, "No."

"I don't know," Poppy finally said, and healed the wound on the bridge of her nose. "But this doesn't look like suicide. I have no idea how she could have sustained this wound," she pointed at the one across the nose, "or a concussion."

"The bloody squid…" Severus began, looking out over the lake with glaring eyes.

"No, it wouldn't. It has only ever saved them, not dragged them into the water," Dumbledore halted his accusation before it was fully formed. "I shall try and speak to the merpeople; maybe they know more."

Poppy conjured a stretcher and Levitated the pale witch onto it. She set off towards the castle, hearing Snape follow her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Albus kneel by the water, trying to contact the under water creatures.

"You better dry yourself," she said to her young colleague, who was scowling fearfully at the Hermione. He didn't react or even appeared to have heard her. With a head-shake, she did it for him, still not garnering a reaction from him.

"Her lips are blue," he said after a few more yards. "She needs a warming charm!"

"I've already cast one," Poppy reassured him and he looked at her with so much worry that she wanted to pat his hands reassuringly. "She'll be fine, Severus. You should return to your classes."

"But…" he began.

"See to your students before they blow the castle up," she cut him off. "You can see her later. Now go," she said softly.

"But…" he said again, looking dazed and lost, but he finally stopped walking and Poppy saw him watch them until they had rounded a corner. She appreciated his concern more than he would ever know, but Poppy had her hands full with the almost drowned girl; she didn't need to add a worried Professor adding to her work.


	20. Chapter 20

Every class that had Potions this morning heaved a collective sigh in relief as they left the dungeon classroom. Even the sixth and seventh years fairly sprinted away from Snape and his beastly attitude.

Severus couldn't get the picture of the lifeless Hermione Granger out of his head. It had been bad enough to find her in the cellar in France, but today had been almost worse.

Her face had been deadly pale and her full lips a ghastly blue. Even her hair had looked dull and weak; no longer the untameable mane it used to be. What had really driven the shock into his weary bones was that she hadn't moved. She might have been weak and lethargic in France, but at least she had signalled him that there was still some life in her.

He had wanted to follow her into the infirmary before, but now his erstwhile worry had turned into anger. How dare she try and kill herself? He didn't believe Poppy words about it being an accident; not until he had stuffed Veritaserum down the girl's throat.

"Ungrateful wench," he hissed with less hate than he had aimed for and drew another circuit through his empty classroom. It was incredibly difficult to summon any real contempt for her, as it was always washed away with worry, and something else he didn't want to acknowledge.

How could he not be worried? First, Granger girl had fallen down the stairs, and probably would have died without him there, and she was close to death again today.

"Why did I even rescue her?" he huffed and kicked a chair as he passed it. Well, if she wasn't going to show a bit more gratefulness by at least trying to stay alive, he would ignore her. She had made him _worry,_ for heaven's sake, and he'd felt weak for having feared for her life. It all seemed to be some kind of game to her, but he would not play it!

Why did she try and force him to accept their bond, when she tried to impersonate a sinking submarine? He didn't understand her at all and finally left his classroom to get some lunch.

The walking thundercloud entered the Great Hall with a ferocious expression, making several nearby first years scuttle to the other end of the table.

"Everything all right, Severus?" Pomona Sprout dared to ask and only got a dog-like snarl from him. "Merlin help us," she mumbled and turned back to her soup.

No one else tried to communicate with him, which was actually his daily routine. Severus turned to his own soup, sucking the liquid viciously threw his teeth.

"Has anyone seen Miss Granger?" Minerva asked, not noticing that the mention of that particular student made Severus bend his spoon in anger. "I sent her to the infirmary this morning: I'd expected her to be out by now."

As if on cue, Poppy bustled in through the doors, and made her way up to the Head Table.

"Oh, Poppy. Did Miss Granger talk to you?" Minerva stopped her. "And has Mr. Weasley come with his broken nose? Maybe I should have taken points from Mr. Potter for hitting a Prefect, but that would go against everything I stand for," she prattled on.

Poppy had been on her way to Severus but took the time to reassure the other witch.

"I have not seen Mr. Weasley. But yes, she's just woken up. She was quite delirious, mind you, but that's to be expected after almost drowning." Patting Minerva's arm for good measure, she walked over to Severus, but Minerva called her back.

"What do you mean: drowning?" McGonagall asked ashen-faced. "I only sent her to you because of her breakdown in class this morning." She was trying not to speak to loudly, in case any curious students tried to listen.

Poppy looked at her bemusedly, not quite understanding what was going on. "We will have to speak later, Minnie. Right now, I need this young man," she said and pointed at Severus who still had the bent spoon clutched in his hand.

"I won't go and see her," he pre-empted her.

Poppy actually put her hands on her hips, while bending over him threateningly. It would have worked better had she not been only a few inches taller than the still sitting man.

"I don't know what brought on this childish fit, but you _will_ see her. You could hardly separate from her earlier."

"I do not wish to…" His petulant words got stopped by the irate witch.

"I'm telling you that I don't care. Hermione is suffering from unexplainable chest pains, and I'd like you to… do whatever your bond tells you to."

"I have no bond…" he tried, but felt like a traitor the second the words left his lips.

"Severus Snape," she hissed quietly, aware that many students and staff members alike where watching. "I'm extraordinarily close to smacking you over the head in public. Now get over whatever it is that is bothering you, and try and help her."

"I did try to help her," he said venomously, "and she plays with her life as if it means nothing!"

Poppy looked bewildered and close to exploding. "I told you she did not try and kill herself, you berk, now follow me!" The last three words came out overly loud, but Severus got up to follow her order, giving everyone a threatening glare who dared to look at him.

He stepped into the infirmary with a glower that made Poppy roll her eyes at him. "Cut that out," she told him. "She hasn't done anything to warrant such antagonism from you."

He still wasn't convinced but found his face softening by itself the closer he got to the resting young woman. He watched anxiously as Poppy touched her shoulder to wake her.

"Professor Snape is here," she said gently.

Severus noticed that Poppy never spoke in such a caring voice to other students; she usually maintained a rather aloof manner and didn't coddle her patients. She seemed different when she was around Miss Granger. She might not coddle the girl, but she clearly was investing feelings in the younger witch. How… extraordinary.

But really, what was it that made people like the girl? Why was it that most adults adored the girl, while people her own age thought her beneath notice? Granger really was becoming a mystery – or always had been.

"Hello," Hermione rasped and cleared her throat while she sat up. "Poppy and I talked, and amongst other things we spoke about your previous unexplained chest pains; like the ones I seem to have now. This can't be coincidence, and I thought we could make a little experiment…"

Severus was unwillingly entranced by her lively eyes. Would someone suicidal look like that? Shouldn't she be dutifully melancholic? He hadn't really listened to what she'd said, his mind still hung up about that one thing.

"Did you try and kill yourself?"

Hermione looked at him with a puzzled expression. "No, not at all. Why would you think that?"

"It isn't unheard of to want to follow those you've loved into death," he said matter-of-factly. "When you woke after I rescued you, your first words were: 'Please no'."

"You were there?" she wondered aloud.

"Right next to you. You didn't notice me."

"Sorry," she said, and he didn't know whether she was apologising for her words or not having noticed him.

"I might have had those thoughts," she continued, "but when I was in the water I swam like hell," she recalled with a tiny wry smirk. "I certainly didn't want to die; and definitely not drown!"

Severus calmed at that, convinced by her words and he sighed softly before sitting next to her bed.

"My chest pain is almost gone," she said, still rubbing the area between her breasts. "And I believe that you were the reason." She held out her arm, waiting for a quizzical Snape to grasp it.

But when she took his hand to firmly press it against her chest, he jumped off his chair, trying to yank his happy appendage back. The momentary shock simply blew away as he was filled with a feeling of reassurance and calm, soothing his frazzled nerves.

He closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the feeling, before studying her beatific smile as she was caught in the same maelstrom of comfort. It was difficult to let go of her, and he allowed her to press his slightly sweaty hand right above her heart. He felt the soft swell of her breasts on each side of his hand, and held his hand very still.

"I feel better now," she said and raised her eyes to his. There was still some lingering pain in her chest, and she wondered if it took a while to leave or if there was something else bothering him.

"Yes," was all he allowed and heard her giggle softly.

"So, it's safe to say that one's emotional distress or disturbance is felt by the other, right? And a simple touch is all it takes to cure it," she summarised what had happened.

There was nothing simple about feeling the soft roundness of her breasts near his palm, but he agreed with her general statement. It had been difficult to have her hand on his own body, but it would take even longer to get used to touching her. He was so close to her nipples…

He watched her every movement and sucked in a startled breath when she brought his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. "I have never thanked you for saving my life," she said quietly.

There was no smile on her face, but the earnestness and warm solemnity in her amber eyes was even more intense, and he found himself unable to reply with more than a nod.

She had rested his hand on the edge of the bed, but had not let go of him completely, stroking his warm skin tenderly.

Unwillingly, he pulled his hand free and clasped his hands, wishing he could wipe his sweaty palms discreetly. When he looked around, Poppy was nowhere in sight. Every time he was with Miss Granger, he tended to ignore his surroundings.

Hermione read his expression and laughed. "It's the same for me. I haven't heard her leave either."

"Tell me what happened, and how you ended up as the squid's plaything," he said, getting comfortable on his chair, as if awaiting a bed time story.

Hermione's eyes had widened at his words. "I ended up as _what_?" she squeaked and made Snape smirk.

"I'd like to know that as well," Minerva called out, not even in the room completely yet. "What the devil is going on here?" she wanted to know, and didn't even mean Snape's reoccurring presence by Hermione's bedside. "Are you actually planning to move into the infirmary permanently?" she asked the Gryffindor jokingly.

Hermione shared a brief glance with Severus, who lowered his head with a grin.

Before Hermione could begin with her story, Dumbledore walked through the door as well, conjuring a chair to sit right next to his deputy.

Poppy also returned from her office. She conjured another chair, answering Hermione's sardonic grin with one of her own.

"Wait with your story. Put that cream on the bruise on your nose," she said and handed Hermione a small jar of ointment.

"You want me to tell you the story with purple goo on my nose?" Hermione asked annoyed after unscrewing the top.

"Hurry, Miss Granger," Snape urged her. "Before I decide to do it for you."

Hurriedly, Hermione scooped a tiny amount of paste onto her finger and gingerly rubbed it onto the still swollen bruise. She shot a deadly glare at a snorting Snape.

"Pretty," he mocked, but froze at uttering the forbidden word in her presence. It looked even more suspicious when he clamped up momentarily and cleared his throat savagely. "Get on with your story," he barked, not fooling anyone. Well, anyone but Hermione, who had taken his statement as the mocking she thought it was intended for.

She wasn't overly hurt by it, finding his words comparatively mild. She knew she wasn't much to look at. And then she told everyone what had happened today, starting with the horrid class and the accidental outing of what had really happened.

She tried to gloss over what led to her minor breakdown in Transfiguration, but Minerva interrupted and put a heavy emphasis on Ronald Weasley's abominable behaviour, much to Hermione's chagrin. She blushed deeply, not even knowing why, but forgot all about any discomfort when every looked at a growling Snape.

"That blasted idiot! I hope you gave him detention," he said with a steely glance at Minerva.

"Erm, no, I was so angry all I wanted to do was to smack him over the head, and transfigure him into a teapot," she said flustered, grimacing at Snape's huff of disbelief. "Besides, I though the broken nose Mr. Potter gave him to be punishment enough."

Hermione looked surprised, but kept her mouth shut. She noticed Snape's gratified grin, and found herself copying his facial expression before remembering herself.

Albus intervened before they could get into their old argument about Gryffindors. "Please continue, Miss Granger."

She thanked him with a nod and kept talking, pretending not to hear the disparaging remarks from Snape about her roaming through the parts of the castle she had no business being in.

After hearing "Bloody hell, girl" one time too often, she turned to him with a scowl. "I was told that my Heart's Keeper would be a person who tries not to break my heart or hurt me. But I really can imagine more friendly comments," she said incensed.

Snape blushed at her outspoken words. They had both noticed their bond and some consequences, but hearing her call him her Heart's Keeper out loud was another thing altogether.

"By the way," Hermione continued, this time more thoughtful and less vengeful, "I was bloody terrified. Shouldn't you have, erm, felt it?" she asked Snape, gesturing at his chest.

His mouth thinned, not comfortable with speaking in front of his colleagues. "I did," he began, but didn't say anything more, even though it had sounded as if he wanted to add more.

"And?" Hermione asked.

He sighed quietly to himself. "I felt it, but I was sure you were in class, and not wandering through the castle. I am a teacher," he defended himself, although no one was looking at him with accusation, "and as such I cannot constantly check up on you whenever you seem to feel distressed." This was what had really bothered him: that he hadn't looked after her despite feeling her distress. He felt guilty.

He watched his colleagues with narrowed eyes, daring them to comment, but they merely looked back at him with calm interest. Only Minerva nodded fervently to his reasoning.

"Don't look so uncomfortable, Severus. We all know about your connection and what it entails. Or at least some of it," Poppy said exasperatedly. Then she turned to Hermione. "Don't worry, that's how he expresses his worry. He's probably just angry that you put yourself in danger."

"I can speak for myself, Poppy," he hissed, but didn't say anything more, causing the nurse to laugh softly.

Hermione looked at the black-haired man intently, seeing him lower his eyes uncomfortably. His face disappeared behind the black curtain his hair provided, leaving nothing but his beaky nose to peek out. Gathering her courage, she reached out and pulled his hair aside, until the black and narrowed eye looked into hers. "It's okay, it wasn't your fault," she said softly to the uncomfortable-looking man.

He reared back, not at all liking to be touched so intimately in front of his colleagues. It wasn't the fact that she had touched him, but the witnesses to the simple action. But her forgiveness was what he had needed, and he finally allowed himself to relax. He noticed her sag as well, and inhale deeply; apparently her chest pain had gone at last.

"Miss Granger," he rasped. "I forbid you to touch me in public. I mean at all," he corrected quickly.

Albus calmed him. "Severus, listen closely. You have the chance to form one of the most rewarding friendships in you life, and you are free to express your friendship. There is no need to hide for propriety's sake, as long as you keep it decent," he said forcefully.

"Well…" Minerva began, but one stern glance from Albus made her shut up.

"But I cannot be seen being… friends with a student - a Muggle-born at that," Severus argued. He didn't even try to deny wanting the bond, but didn't openly embrace it either.

"Well," Hermione spoke into the thoughtful silence, "I will agree to not show any signs of the bond in public," she said, eyeing Snape. "No touching, no smiling, or other _indecencies_."

He looked back at her from under heavy lids, and inclined his head briefly; his gratitude only noticeable by the relaxing of his stiff posture.

"Where, was I?" Hermione asked metaphorically, trying to end the small dispute. "Ah yes, as I said the door I found wouldn't open with any spell I used."

"That should have been enough to make you turn away from it," Snape interrupted sternly, but was generally ignored. Only Herione looked at him

"We all make silly choices," Hermione said pointedly but without judgement. Her hand came up automatically to pat Snape's shoulder, to stop it from rising indignantly at the clear reference to his Death Eater activities in his youth.

Poppy snorted. "So much for not touching in public."

Hermione blushed slightly, and let Snape shrug her off gently. "So, instead of shooting spells at it, I simply touched it, without expecting anything to happen. But then a bright red hand print glowed on the wood, and I brought my hand up to cover it. That's when the door swung open."

"That's impossible," Severus moaned, and buried his face in his hands. He mumbled something unintelligible into his palms.

"Speak up, boy," Poppy said impatiently, and was flabbergasted when Snape reappeared with a rueful smile. She had expected anger.

"I believe this was another unwanted side-effect of the bond," he began, but was startled by Hermione's almost tragic-sounding voice.

"Unwanted?"

He rolled his eyes at her, hoping she wouldn't cry. "The side effect," he snapped. "_I _warded the door, and only _my _touch was supposed to open it," he explained and waited for everyone's reaction.

"What's next?" Minerva asked exasperatedly. "Will you read each other's minds?"

Hermione looked disturbed at that notion, and Severus slammed down his Occlumency walls automatically. He didn't know if he could live with Hermione being privy to his every thought. He gave her a warning glare but she huffed at him.

"Don't look like that," she scolded. "You should always read the small print when using a spell."

Severus crossed his arms self-consciously. He _had _read the small print and ignored the warnings, he really had no one to blame but himself, but no one needed to know that.

"Maybe if the Aurors had been more competent, they wouldn't have needed me in the first place. So you can thank Tonks and Shacklebolt. And Albus for burdening me with your rescue," he grumbled.

"I wasn't complaining," Hermione said with a sweet smile that was solely for him, and saw him trying to be unaffected. On purpose she stroked one greasy strand of black hair, and quickly pretended that nothing was out of the ordinary when he tossed his head in irritation.

"Will you stop that?! I'm not a cat." He paused, not quite realising how her mood had suddenly changed. "By the way: didn't you used to own a fat ginger menace? I don't mean Weasley, but that cat of yours." He really was oblivious sometimes. But as a slight throbbing in his chest reason set in, he knew she was upset.

Hermione was impressed that he knew of her cat, considering there were over fifty living in the castle. "He's… with my parents," she managed to say and smiled with sad twisted lips, trying not to think about the gruesome demise of her half-kneazle.

The poor thing had attacked one of her abductors, only to be struck by a heavy boot. Dazed as he was, he had been an easy target for more kicks to the head. To top it all, the laughing men had tossed the still alive animal over the cliffs, back handing a crying Hermione who had tried to go after her familiar.


	21. Chapter 21

No one spoke about the death of Hermione's cat, seeing how uncomfortable she was with the topic. Snape studied her face, imagining her pain over losing her familiar.

He used to have one during his first three years at Hogwarts: a blind racoon that had shown him more attention than any human at the time. The hated Marauders had killed it during one of the many attacks on the lone Slytherin, not even realising that a stray Stunner had hit and killed the small animal.

He had cried over the loss in private, and had never wanted another pet again. He understood her grief; it was just as real as the grief over a lost person.

Albus was teh first to break the silence. "Well, that leaves us with one solution, Miss Granger: No more exploration of the dungeons. Doors that are locked should stay that way," he admonished gently, keeping his words and expression light.

Hermione could do nothing but nod understandingly and was glad when Dumbledore and McGonagall left. Snape stayed a bit longer.

He didn't know why he was still here, and covered his confusion by reminding the young woman that it was time to eat. She nodded and grimaced at the same time, and her reaction wasn't missed by Snape and Poppy.

"While you're here, you can eat with me," Poppy offered, warmed by the grateful smile Hermione sent her way. "Shall I order lunch for three?" she asked in Severus direction, giving him a reason to stay.

"Very well, saves me from walking to the Great Hall." He sighed dramatically, following the females into Poppy's office.

Poppy called the kitchens through her fire and only minutes later, an elf popped in Levitating three dishes.

To Hermione's delight, it was the elf with only one arm, and half a foot, and chewed on ears. He still looked cute despite his shortcomings. She wondered what happened to him, but didn't think she had the right to enquire about it, as she hardly knew him.

"Hello," she called with honest happiness.

"Little Miss," it replied with the tiniest of bows, and put the Levitating dishes onto the small table in a corner. "You seems to have migrated into the infirmary," it pointed out while filling three glass with a dark-red liquid.

"And you seem to have a chocolate smear on your cheek," Hermione replied in the same even tone.

The elf stopped setting the table and wiped both cheeks, only to hear Hermione chuckle amusedly.

"Very funny, little Miss. Don't be surprised if I accidentally sneeze into your soup next time," he warned with an airy tone.

"Don't think I won't notice the green slime," she shot back with a never-fading grin.

"Miss Granger cannot drink wine," Snape interrupted with his usual berating tone, watching the elf with narrowed eyes, but the small creature didn't even so much as blink at the reprimand.

"Little Miss is having cranberry juice," the house-elf declared calmly.

"Oh, my favourite," Hermione said, closing her eyes to savour the slightly bitter taste and rough feeling it left on her tongue.

"I knows," the elf said with what could have been an indulgent smirk, before popping back to the kitchens.

Severus and Poppy looked at each other, both feeling perplexed by the interplay between elf and girl.

"I thought you had sufficiently scared all elves with your threat of giving them clothes," Snape drawled, making Poppy chortle into her glass, whereas Hermione gave him a dirty look.

Then she suddenly smirked evilly, and before Severus could do anything she was patting his head condescendingly. "Oh, that was the first joke you made in your life! Clever boy," she crooned like a proud mother.

He jerked his head away with an annoyed grimace. "Silly wench," he muttered, and rolled his eyes at Poppy's never-ending laughter. He liked the nurse too much to take her to task for her amusement. And he actually revelled in the teasing from the younger witch, who was probably the only student who wasn't afraid of him, and still respected him. Even when she was teasing him she never tried to hurt or insult him.

"I will probably go back to classes this afternoon," Hermione said suddenly, chewing thoughtfully on her beef.

Severus still didn't like to coddle her, but saw no point in forcing her to classes if it ended in another breakdown. "You have lived at Hogwarts long enough to know how efficient gossip travels. Everyone will be aware of what really happened to you," he warned her.

"I know, but what am I supposed to do? Leave school and come back in a year?" she joked, but there was sudden speculating glint in her eyes that Severus didn't like.

"I haven't expected you to be so scared," he wondered out loud, merely making a statement.

"Not really scared, but unprepared," she'd said.

"In your case that seems to be the same," he replied with a smirk, wiping his mouth as he finished his meal. He felt quite at ease in her presence, but needed more time to get used to that.

She didn't say anything, but her less than amused look made him leave the Hospital Wing, waiting until the door had closed behind him to allow himself to chuckle.

"I heard that!" she barked from inside, listening to his quickly retreating footsteps.

Poppy had managed to calm herself, but laughed out loud again at their friendly bickering.

Not much later, Hermione was surrounded by curious Gryffindors and cackling Slytherins, waiting for Hagrid to show up. They were all gathered by the gates, ready for a trip into the forest, using the good weather for some practical lessons.

"Ah, look, the little orphans have found each other," Malfoy drawled as he pointed at Harry and Hermione standing close together. "Will you dry each other's tears?"

His statement caused more laughter among the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle laughed the loudest.

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy," Harry shouted incensed. "I've seen you crying when your mother forgot to send your monthly supply of chocolate, cuddly toys and night time nappies."

"Why, you half-blooded swine," the blond young man growled and advanced.

The impending violence was abhorrent for Hermione and she inched away. Ron watched her retreat with an odd expression. He still hadn't apologised, but had at least refrained from insulting her at every opportunity.

"Hey, you lot. Wands away and get ready to go," Hagrid bellowed, making the hot-headed boys retreat from each other. Then he lumbered over to Hermione who was standing to the side, alone.

"Oh, Hermione. I've just heard," he blubbered, close to tears as he picked the small young woman up to pull her into a comforting hug.

All Slytherins and Gryffindors stared in shock, when the squashed girl screamed shrilly, absolute terror in her face.

Hagrid was so out of sorts that he dropped her instantly, making her fall on the dirty floor. "Oh, I'm sorry," he apologised clumsily, and looked down at Hermione helplessly who tried to crawl backwards.

The Slytherins got over their shock first and were beginning to laugh; Pansy Parkinson's high-pitched cackle the most noticeable.

Hagrid reached out a hand but Hermione frantically shook her head. She just wanted to be alone, far away from the pitying looks and the gleeful amusement. It wasn't the panic she'd felt at being crushed by the half-giant that made her water up, but the abject humiliation.

Harry came over and knelt down with worry edged in every line on his young face, and she couldn't stand it any longer. She felt even more fragile and inadequate when he looked at her as if she were Bambi's reincarnation, and tried not to spook her with any fast movements.

"Please leave me alone," she whispered and saw him look at her with hurt disbelief. He got up slowly, and after one last look at her, he went over to Ron, of all people. He had learned to be more understanding, but rejection in any form brought out the angry side in him. Having his offer for help refused was like a personal insult to him.

"Can we just get on with the lesson?" Malfoy called over, pretending boredom, even though he could have watched the Mudblood's humiliation for much longer. But he wanted to tease her more later; corner her when she was alone.

"Yes, yes, maybe we should just…" Hagrid scratched his head, not knowing how to proceed.

Neville came over and knelt down next to Hermione who still hadn't made any move to try and get up.

"Give us a minute. We will follow you in a bit," he said to the teacher and waved the class away with a natural ease that looked rather good on the normally shy young man.

"You've changed," she told him with a wobbly voice.

He shrugged. "I'm still hopeless in Potions," he retorted with a good amount of self-mockery. Then he turned serious. "Come on, Hermione. Try not to show weakness in front of them. I know that's easier said than done, but you don't have to go through this alone."

"But I do. Ron is a brainless prat, Harry is easily offended, Ginny will get angry with me for being weak eventually and Sna… Well, there is no one else, and I'm not sure I even want company or help."

"I'm here," he pointed out while looking at the sky, as if he was embarrassed to even offer such a thing. "I'm easy to please. Just say my name at random times, and I'll be happy. Like a loyal dog, you know?"

She laughed at his words, and hiccupped. "You are the most loyal dog one could wish for," she said gratefully, and had calmed enough to pat his forearm gently. "I'd even stuff you after your death," she added with a snigger.

Neville laughed loudly and got to his feet. "I'm touched," he said, still chortling under his breath. "Come on, let's go." He held a hand out and was relieved when she took it.

He pulled her to her feet without problems, apparently having gained some muscles over the summer. "Malfoy is planning something. I've seen him plot for over six years now, and know when he's up to no good. Promise me to keep close to me."

She nodded and pulled was glad when he released her hand without prompting. Then she followed him to where the others had disappeared into the dark forest. "Thank you, Neville, for not pestering me."

"No problem. I'm a very well trained dog, after all."

"And house-trained, I hope," she added and laughed at his evil grin.

XXXXX

In hindsight it had probably been the most horrible Care-of-Magical-Creatures lesson she'd ever had. She was glad that she only had it once a week; she couldn't deal with Hagrid's uncomfortable stuttering and weird silences, not to speak of the leers and jeers the Slytherins treated her with.

Neville had been good to his word and stayed by her side unobtrusively, giving her a feeling of security without appearing as an annoying body guard.

Right after class she walked to the Headmaster's office, breathing deeply to calm herself before asking the gargoyle to alert the Headmaster to her presence.

"Hello, my dear, are you ready to go?" he asked kindly. After seeing her grimace at him sardonically he regretted asking. "Silly question, of course. One is never ready to arrange a funeral," he said understandingly.

A gulp was her only reaction and Albus stopped talking, guiding her out of his office and out of the castle. He spoke again as they reached the Apparition point.

"I know you can Apparate, but allow me to bring us to our destination," he said and saw her nod. He waited for her to put her hand on his forearm, pretending not to notice how hesitantly she did this, pulled out his wand and spun in a half-circle. They were gone in an instant.

Hermione separated from the older wizard as soon as she felt the ground beneath her feet, not caring that she almost lost her balance.

She couldn't understand her mixed reactions to males. The seventh year boys were too boisterous and immature, and had no idea how to deal with her, except for Neville.

He had turned into a well-built young man, but still had an air of shy innocence about him, that made it easier for her to be around him. He kept a safe distance between them and moved carefully around her without appearing to.

Ron was more of a self-centred arse than she would have thought possible, but Harry had been good for her, at least for a while. Why his extreme caution while dealing with her had begun to irritate her wasn't clear to her, and she feared she had pushed him away for good without meaning to.

The teacher's were a different matter altogether. Hagrid had scared her beyond reason, and she couldn't go back to how things were before, as both of them behaved awkwardly in each other's presence.

She had been puzzled by her averse reaction to Dumbledore, and she hadn't even thought she might have problems touching the grandfatherly wizard until it was time to do so. She couldn't explain it.

What she also couldn't explain, was how to define the link she had with Snape. She hadn't got further that establishing the fact that they had a bond, and had discovered that the bond had 'gifted' them with a few things. But she couldn't understand why she sometimes behaved as if she'd known him for years, while fearing his reactions at other times. She was very aware of his maleness, more so now than before her rape, but she didn't fear the otherwise forbidding man in a sexual way. It was maddening to even try and analyse their connection.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the enormous building that was St. Mungo's stood before her.

"Why are we here?" she questioned her companion, finally realising that they were about to enter the magical hospital.

"I thought you would like to see your parents before we go to the Muggle solicitor," Dumbledore said kindly, peering down at her.

Her eyes were in danger of falling out of her head at his proposal. She wasn't ready to see them! There was no way she could deal with this now! How dare he just spring that on her?

She nodded anyway, feeling as if she had betrayed herself with her quick acquiescence without even voicing the slightest murmur of protest.

Dumbledore led her into the building with fast strides, keeping his fingertips on the small of her back to stop her from changing her mind and bolting.

"We're here to see the Grangers," he told the Welcome Witch.

At this Hermione laughed a little, sounding hysterical even to her own ears. The old and stern-looking witch eyed her with a disapproving frown, and Hermione wanted to poke her wand between her eyes to stop the condescending mien.

Dumbledore stayed infuriatingly quiet and had the nerve to smile down serenely at his charge as if they were expected at some grand picnic, and not there to see the lifeless remains of Hermione's parents.

Hermione hated hospitals and noticed how laboured her breathing got as she followed the old wizard into the next elevator. It was empty, and the two of them were the only ones to ride down.

When they stepped out, Hermione was immediately assaulted by coldness and a stale smell that made her shiver. Only Dumbledore's gentle nudge made her realise that she hadn't moved yet and was blocking the exit of the elevator.

Reluctantly, she made two hesitant steps, just enough to let the old wizard step out of the moving contraption.

"Come this way, Miss Granger," he said softly, walking down a sparsely lit corridor that ended in darkness. It felt like walking into an abyss, but she owed it to her parents to follow Dumbledore.

They had already met death bravely. Hermione's father had even tried to protect his only child, and the least she could do was to go down a stupid scary corridor and see them one last time.

She followed Dumbledore's footsteps until they stopped, and a door opened with an unpleasant noise. With a shudder, she walked into the ice-cold room; the freezing temperature made her see her own breath form pretty shapes in front of her eyes. The beautiful shapes seemed horribly out of place in this chamber and she wanted to stop breathing to be more inconspicuous.


	22. Chapter 22

A few torches lit themselves as they stepped into the room, their flames dancing reluctantly as if they didn't dare disturb the peace of the dead.

The high walls were lined with small metallic doors, making the room look like an enormous chess of drawers.

Behind two of those doors must be her parents, she knew, and her eyes scanned the vast room, trying to see name tags or anything similar, but the only thing she found was tiny numbers.

"Jonathan and Isabelle Granger," Dumbledore said and Hermione screeched with a hoarse voice, as two of the doors opened. The design reminded her disturbingly of Muggle morgues, and two pale bodies slowly appeared with agonising slowness. They were very high up and Hermione asked herself if she was supposed to use a fucking ladder to bid her parents farewell.

Before she had a chance to use some choice words, the whole wall rearranged itself, and other metallic drawers moved out of the way to make space for the ones she needed to see.

But when they stopped at a reasonable height, she couldn't move.

She could see her mother's hair hanging over the cold-looking metallic table, begging to be brushed. How often had they done that on the sofa, while her father had read them something from a book…

Dumbledore was the first to move forward, motioning her to step closer.

"H-How do they l-look?" she croaked. She wouldn't be able to look at them if the gun-shot wounds were still visible.

"Perfectly normal, Miss Granger," he reassured her, and held out a hand to her.

Nervously she stepped closer, but ignored his hand, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes and wish herself home. Before she knew it, she was standing next to her dead parents, her lips parted and her eyes wide and wild.

They did indeed look 'normal'. No wounds were visible, and Hermione felt a great rush of gratitude for magic. Her parents looked well preserved, but nothing could change the deathly pale grey of their skin or the coldness that radiated off of them.

Tears came unbidden and made her vision blurry, but she made no move to remove them; anything was better than to stare at the immobile bodies.

"Mum?" she whispered and raised a quivering hand, touching the hair of her mother. It was coarser than she remembered it, and she stroked her cheek next, only to pull away sharply.

The skin was icy and dry to the point of flakiness. The preservation spells couldn't have been applied in time, as their bodies had started to decompose in France already.

"Mummy?" Wailing over her loss, she looked at the bodies that had once been her parents. Everything that had made them her family, her creators and her guardians, was long gone. These were nothing but empty shells. They had no more love to give; no more warmth or happiness to share.

"I'm so sorry, Daddy," she sobbed broken-heartedly, barely getting the words past the enormous lump that was wedged in her throat.

She had suppressed her grief for the most part, but now it came back with the force of a tidal wave, drowning and choking her without mercy. Her knees buckled at everything that was familiar to her was pulled out from under her feet.

Albus stepped closer, wanting to help her stay upright.

"Don't touch me," she cried, and cringed away from him. "I want to go. Now! I need to go," she whimpered, turning away from the half-naked corpses on the hard metal surfaces.

They wouldn't have wanted to be seen like this. They had suffered enough; no need to stare at them and blubber all over them, begging for forgiveness that she didn't even deserve. She'd been clumsy and useless, and far from being the smartest witch of her age. Making a quick decision, she took her wand out of her sleeve, sticking it in the curly mess of her mother's hair. She didn't want it anymore.

"I want to go," she said again, sucking mucus up her nose, while searching in vain for a tissue.

Dumbledore didn't even ask if she meant her wand to stay here, but accepted her decision. He handed her one of his tissues, and she took it with unnecessary force.

It didn't smell as nice as Snape's she noticed, wondering why the hell she was thinking about such a triviality right now.

"Bye, mommy, daddy," she said quickly with a moist sniff, looking at their supine forms for the very last time. "I love you." Then she practically raced out of the tomb-like room, feeling bad to leave her parents behind in this grisly place.

"No, it's not them anymore," she told herself, they really didn't care what was happening to them now – they didn't notice anything anymore. Without waiting for the Headmaster she walked back to the elevator, but needn't have worried anyway, as a gnarled hand opened the doors to the magical lift and let her get in.

No one spoke for a long time, not until they'd reached the Muggle solicitor.

XXXXX

Dinner was over by the time the two people arrived back at Hogwarts.

"Thank you for accompanying me today, Professor," Hermione thanked him with a yawn. She actually wanted to beat him for putting her through this ghastly business today, but she knew it wasn't his fault and he actually had been a great help.

"You're welcome, my dear," he said with the same calm he had shown all day.

It was infuriating! She had the most horrible day, or one of them, and he spoke as if it had been a normal day in his life. Well, maybe it had, she conceded. With a nod, she turned and walked away.

"You should get something to eat. You know where the kitchens are," he said, and Hermione stopped, not looking at him.

Did he know about her many trips to the kitchens, or was that just a general statement? She gave him a nondescript hum, and continued walking.

"Good night, Miss Granger," he called after her, but probably didn't hear her muttered, "Likewise, sir."

She wasn't hungry, as such, but in need of comfort food. And so she walked to the elf domain, and tickled the pair, for once not feeling the expected delight of the wriggling pear.

The room looked empty, and not even the cooking area seemed in use. No wonder, really, dinner had been over two hours ago. She didn't know what to do and walked further in, hoping to come across a helpful elf sooner or later.

"Hello," she called out quietly, when she heard a cupboard door close. She was about to peak around the corner, when something black shot towards her. With a weak shriek, she protectively covered her face, and almost fell to the floor.

"It's just me," she heard a gruff voice say, and looked up with the first smile that afternoon.

She couldn't stop smiling, and stayed where she was, looking like a drugged victim of a love-potion.

"Get up, Granger. The days were I enjoy watching people grovel are over," Snape said sardonically and grimaced when he realised what he'd said. He held out a long-fingered hand to help her up, and Hermione noticed a few potions stains on his palm.

"You've brewed Anti-Inflammatory potions? I didn't know they're on the curriculum," she said, ignoring his previous statement.

"They're not, I just brew for Poppy quite often," he explained and hauled her up with ease. "Don't tell me you recognised the light-purplish stains on my hand," he huffed.

"No," she reassured him mockingly. "I have spies in all your classes that tell me what you've been doing." She ignored his less than amused face and opened a few cupboards, looking for anything tasty.

"Only the elves know how to open the cupboards with the good stuff. All I found was bread and cheese." Severus saw her disappointment change into anger with lightning speed. And then her already red-rimmed eyes seemed to fill with salty liquid.

"I just want something nice, is that too much to ask?" she sniffed.

"Merlin, woman, you have more mood swings than an expectant mother," he told her, and was met by a glare that would have been more amusing had it not been aimed at him. Crying, angry women were a danger to one's dangly bits, he'd found out over the years.

He had the mad urge to pat her, or do something similarly soothing, but he saw her face change into a shocked immobile mask. "What's wrong?" he asked, worriedly.

"It hasn't even occurred to me," she said and elaborated when he only looked at her questioningly. "That I could be pregnant! Th-they haven't used any protection, and I'm not on the p-pill, or the m-magical potion." She shuddered. "I could have been pregnant," she whispered.

"But you aren't," he countered calmly, realising the time for jesting was over. "You're not, and that's all that matters." He debated with the few morals and desires he had for a few second, before picking her up to deposit her on the counter.

Hermione twitched at the contact. She really wasn't afraid of him, but her mind and body still didn't react to well with unexpected contact. She leaned her head back against a wall cabinet, and looked at Snape, who had his hands resting on each side of her thighs without touching them.

He didn't say anything and just watched her. Where was the young upstart that tried to impress everyone with her frantic arm-waving and her unstoppable tongue? This didn't seem to be the same girl, but in her stead sat a young woman, whose amber eyes were somewhat dulled by the harsh realisation that life was anything but fair, and that bad things really do happen to good people. She would never regain what she had lost; not just her parents but also the innocence that was her very being. She was a broken little bird that might not return to its former glory despite the best care. The thought saddened him enormously.

"You've been stressed earlier," he said quietly, knowing of her visit to St. Mungo's. He saw her eyelids spasm briefly as she remembered, before she blinked and looked normal again. "I felt it," he continued, not getting enough of staring into her expressive eyes. They clouded in silent apology, and he leaned closer to peer deeply into her eyes, watching her pupils dilate.

"I'm sorry, I forgot that my mood is affecting you. I... I wish you could have been there."

His lips were on the verge of parting, but he didn't have a clue as to what to say, and so he pressed them together again, stuying how her eyebrows knitted together.

"I need a hug," she suddenly lamented, wanting to catch up on the comfort she had missed out earlier. "Just a comforting hug, but I'm still afraid of being hugged, do you know what I mean?"

She was apparently awaiting an answer, and Snape licked his lips nervously. He asked her a counter question first. "Do you believe this Heart's Keeper spell, and what it entailed? Do you even believe we have a… bond?"

She thought about it. "Yes, I do believe that. I can see through your Disillusionment charms, and probably vice versa. There must be a reason for that, and I don't believe that this is a random occurrence."

Severus looked as if the idea of trying it the other way around had never occurred to him.

She went on. "I can counter your wards. That should be explored further, by the way. And we have the chest pains, which seem to be alerting us to the other's distress." She bit her lip a few times, not done talking yet. "And I actually breathe a sigh of relief when I see you," she confessed.

"You fell down the stairs when you saw me," he scoffed.

"Only because I didn't see you coming. Like just now. I didn't expect you to be lurking around the corner, but I was… happy when I heard your voice."

He watched her with intense concentration for what seemed like an eternity, but she sensed that he needed some time to process her words, and kept quiet.

"Then, yes," was what he finally said.

"Huh?" she asked stupidly.

He looked uncomfortable, but really wanted to get this off his chest. "Yes, I do know what it feels like to want a… comforting gesture, but be… afraid of it." He spat the word 'afraid' with loathing, and she wondered why.

"Can we practise together?" she asked with an impish smile.

"I don't think…" He stopped and swallowed several times. He hadn't denied her request as such, and she decided to proceed.

"Okay, here goes," she warned and heard him snort.

"This is not an exam you have to pass," he said sardonically, but was just as tense as her. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered.

She smiled, but concentrated on her hands, which were hovering in front of his body uncertainly until they settled on his shoulders where they rested for a while. Both felt the first pleasant tingles of warmth spread were their bodies connected.

She let her fingers glide over his stiff collar and heard him inhale sharply, but probably not in pleasure. He looked ready to bolt.

"Too much?"

"No, just don't… Not the neck, so much," he pressed out, and relaxed visibly when her hands went back to his shoulders.

Then she wriggled closer to the edge of the counter she sat on, until her midriff almost touched his groin. Another wobble and she was pressed against the soft swell that resided between his legs.

Both drew back at that.

"Have you been raped, too?" she dared to ask, not naïve enough to believe that only women could be rape victims.

"No," he said, peeved with her forwarding nature, but offered no other reason for his skittishness.

"Isn't the idea of the Heart's Keeper to trust each other?"

"I have no idea what it actually meant. It was all very vague," he snapped, really not knowing every last detail of the ritual.

"I really want to see the book you found it in," she said bossily and he shivered at the familiar tone of her voice.

"Finally?" he asked with dry amusement. "I thought you'd never ask." And as much as it pained him to share the information, he was glad to see her eager for knowledge.

"Yes, so don't tell me you've accidentally lost it when I ask for it in a few days," she warned, caressing his shoulders unconsciously. "Now back to the hugging business."

She pushed him backwards a bit, allowing her to hop off the counter and stand between it and the surprisingly lean man. Her hands crept over the front of his body with the lightest contact, and wrapped themselves around his waist without squashing him.

"Okay?" she asked and heard a rumbling sound echo through his chest. She continued with her careful try for some normalcy, or the next best thing. The man was so thin, that her hands touched before she was actually pressed against his chest. Then she looked up at him, seeing an alert, but calm expression on his face.

"I've never seen that scar," she said in a conversional tone, looking at a thin white scar that ran through his eyebrow. "Hmm, dashing," she added after studying the blemish for a while.

She didn't notice his reaction to her innocent words and was about to rest her head against his chest, when impulsive lips found the crown of her head. It was a quick peck, and clearly not a sexual gesture, and after a momentary shock at the prickling feeling that resembled bursting champagne bubbles on your tongue, she simply smiled against the coarse fabric of his robes.

It felt like coming home; welcomed by a lazily crackling fire with a sweetly-smelling hot cocoa waiting for you… Perfect.

At one stage the nearness overrode the pleasant feeling, and she stepped back a little, forcing her hands to stay on his narrow hips as not sever the contact completely. She breathed deeply, willing her racing heart to calm and surreptitiously wiped her sweaty palms on his robe. With a determined mien, she exhaled in a rush and pressed her head back against his chest, once more able to find subtle enjoyment in the act.

"Don't move," she told the man. It was completely unnecessary, though, as he hadn't moved a muscle since the start of her experiment; his arms still hung limply at his sides.

She stood like that for a few minutes, finding it easier and easier to accept the closeness as long as it was on her terms and when she wasn't under any pressure.

"Everything okay? Or am I imposing?"

"_Now _you ask?" he huffed. When she didn't answer, he continued. "I've been worse," he allowed in his usual 'graciousness'.

"Okay," she said quietly, her voice muffled by his clothes. "Would you do me a favour, and accompany me to my parents' funeral on Friday?"

He was a bit thrown by the rapid change of topics, but found himself nodding. He realised she couldn't actually see him, and gave her a simple, "Yes, unless I'm otherwise engaged."

"Thank you." She squeezed him just a tad harder to convey her gratitude. "You smell of chocolate," she added with a sigh wonder.

"He doesn't," a new voice corrected with a snort.


	23. Chapter 23

They leapt apart, finding the source of the voice to be the elf with the mangled appearance, and he was holding a bowl with steaming chocolate pudding – the source of the delicious smell. He didn't seem to mind the situation he had found them in, and looked very much at ease.

He thought it prudent to correct Hermione's presumption about Snape's scent, though. "He usually smells of soap, or smoke from his fire, sometimes scotch, or his lotion for dry…"

"That will do," Snape interrupted the talkative elf with a glare.

Hermione blinked at the elf's revelation, and slowly made to take the offered bowl. "That's very nice, but I ought to eat something proper first," she said delicately, hoping not to hurt the elf's feeling.

But he didn't relinquish the bowl, and only raised an eyebrow, looking rather belittling. He pulled it from her hands and handed the sweet dessert over to Snape, who was giving her the exact same expression.

"This wasn't meant for you, little Miss," the elf said unnecessarily, stemming his only functioning arm into his hip. A smirk graced his green lips, baring a few pointy teeth.

Snape looked at her hot and decidedly red face with a grin that he tried to smother by tucking into his food.

"I wasn't hungry anyway," she managed to say in her embarrassment, and left the kitchen, only to hear them chuckling once she was out of sight. "Stupid men," she muttered hotly with abject humiliation, only wanting to get away.

It was near curfew and she didn't fancy a detention or point loss, so she walked straight to the common room, glad when she didn't see Harry or Ron. Neville spotted her and waved her over to where he was chatting with Ginny.

She joined them, glad to be in friendly company without having to partake in the conversation. She listened when she wanted to, and let her mind wander when she felt like it. It was surprisingly pleasant, and she interrupted a momentary lull in their exchange with two words.

"Neville Longbottom."

The other two stared at her with confusion and not a little worry over her mental state, when she grinned at the young man, waiting for him to make the connection.

"I thought mentioning your name once in a while was enough to keep you happy," she reminded him and was rewarded by a hearty guffaw. Ginny still didn't know what they were on about, but seeing Hermione in a more or less relaxed state was enough for her.

But when Neville suddenly woofed once like a dog, she needed to know what the secret joke was.

"I don't get it," the redhead said. "What am I missing?"

Hermione looked at Neville, asking for permission, and he nodded.

"Neville had been good enough to be my self-appointed protector, making it clear that he expects nothing from me, other than hearing his name from time to time. I just tested that promise," Hermione told the female redhead.

"You two are really weird," a perplexed Ginny said good-naturedly, and laughed a little.

Hermione felt quite happy with those two unassuming people, but her good mood turned sour when Lavender and Parvati came over.

"Oi, Granger," the blond called and sauntered over. "Can you do something against that moaning you do at night? We really need our beauty sleep, and the little games you play with yourself are keeping us up."

The girl grinned nastily, and revelled in Parvati's laughter. They didn't even wait for Hermione's answer or reaction, and went to their bedroom with much giggling.

"Stupid cows," Ginny called loudly enough to be heard by all, knowing that the cowardly girls wouldn't come back down, too afraid of the well-known Weasley revenge.

She knew that Hermione had problems with the uncouth girls since they'd all started at Hogwarts, but usually Hermione just shot back some intelligent insults or ignored them altogether, and as such, Ginny was very much surprised to see the tears running down the older girl's cheeks.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" she asked, leaning forward a little.

"I hate them," she whispered.

"Who doesn't?" Neville asked rhetorically, but got serious again when Hermione showed no signs of lighting up at his words. "Did they do something?"

"Their welcome was even colder than I ever imagined," she began and told them all about the cold words Lavender had said to her upon her return and the subsequent rude things they did to her. "They have been like that for years, but now it really gets to me," she confessed, trying to stop crying, seeing as her white shirt was getting awfully wet.

"They will pay," Ginny said and climbed onto the couch Hermione sat on, gesturing Neville to swap seats with her. "Come here, 'Mione," she crooned and pulled the unresisting girl towards her. She held the sobbing girl, stroking her untameable hair with gentle strokes, while Neville glared at everyone who tried to take a peek at the scene.

"Are you having bad dreams?" Ginny asked, when Hermione sobs had quieted down a bit. The older girl turned her head upwards, noticing that she wasn't just leaning on Ginny's shoulder anymore, but was resting her head in her lap.

She sat back up, then. "Not that often. Besides, I hardly sleep in my dormitory."

"What do you mean?" Neville asked.

"I have more or less taken up residence in the infirmary unofficially," she confessed, waiting for their reactions. "I try to sleep in my bed, but end up fleeing after a few hours or some uncomfortable dreams."

"Well, if you feel comfortable there," Ginny said, not bothered by her choice, at all.

"Maybe you can offer your services to Madam Pomfrey, and sleep there officially," was Neville's clever plan.

"Why didn't you just hex the stupid witches?" Ginny asked, handing her friend a tissue.

"I have never hexed them, they're not worth it," Hermione said automatically, repeating what she'd said for years at Ginny's old question. She felt a bit discomfited after burrowing into Ginny's lap like a mole in search of food, and kept a healthy distance between them.

"Rubbish," Ginny huffed and was obviously deep in thought, no doubt thinking up ways to pay the girls back for their rudeness.

"Well, I better go to bed," Hermione said unenthusiastically, looking forward to the stairs that led to her dormitory with dread.

"You can always sleep in my room, and conjure a bed, or something," Ginny offered at seeing her friend's face.

"Thanks, Ginny, but I should really try to deal with this." She just didn't want to deal with the other girls on Ginny's dorm, who would undoubtedly ask question stare at her.

"Okay," Ginny said doubtfully. "Remember, the offer for a girls' night still stands!"

"Thanks," Hermione said again, looking at the younger girl meaningfully, trying to thank her for more than just that offer. Ginny nodded, understanding her with far more ease than any of the boys ever had done.

"Good night, Neville," she said and got a friendly wave by him, before she trudged up to her room.

When she was gone, Ginny patted the free space on the couch next to her, begging Neville to get closer. He did so with a grin.

"You know," she began quietly, not wanting to be overheard, "I wonder what's really going on in her head."

"Me, too," Neville said. "She really has changed, but it's kind of understandable, isn't it? That Harry and Ron cannot accept this is just plain dumb."

"Yeah, I thought Harry had learned to be more sensitive, but he still puts his own feelings in front of hers," she said with a frown, obviously saddened by her boyfriend's lack of maturity.

"They are a bit slow in their development, aren't they?" he asked cheekily, insulting her boyfriend and brother on purpose, knowing that Ginny wouldn't be hurt by his words.

She just grimaced, conceding his point, and smiled widely as Neville laughed out loud.

XXXXX

Hermione meanwhile had arrived in her room, needing to use the toilet. The girls were nowhere in sight, but after trying to get into the bathroom, she knew where they were.

They had locked themselves in the bathroom, probably sharing a bath, which wouldn't be the first time. It also meant, that they would be in there until late, not giving Hermione a chance to get ready for bed.

Anger over their inconsiderate behaviour won out over wanting to ignore them; the latter had never stopped them from treating her poorly anyway, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming in frustration.

In a fit of pique, she took the girls' bedding, pillows and duvets, and chucked them out of the window. She felt childish immediately, and also contrite at having caused more work for the house-elves, and she dreaded the point-loss when this got out.

But then she forced herself not to care so much; they didn't care for her one whit and had made her life a bloody farce since they got here. She was tempted to throw some of their clothes out, as well, but she stopped herself with a self-reproaching grimace.

"Weakling," she snarled to herself, and made to leave the room. Just when she put a hand on the doorknob, an elf appeared in front of her. In her fright, she couldn't make a sound, not even a tiny squeak.

It stepped out of the shadows and Hermione realised who exactly had scared her shitless.

"Oh, it's you," she got out, sounding like a winded dog.

He looked sheepish, and held up a plate with food with his one hand. "You didn't eat dinner, after all," he explained his presence and the plate in his hand.

She was still too embarrassed by her earlier faux pas, and was in an awful mood because of her roommates, and she wasn't mollified by the elf's attempt at reconciliation.

"I'm not hungry anymore," she growled, and pushed past the small creature. She immediately felt bad for ignoring his offer, but she wouldn't crawl back to him and look even weaker. No, she was going to be strong, and not beg the elf to forgive her rude behaviour!

After just a few steps she turned around, mentally smacking herself over the head for not being able to be as cruel as she tried to be. She had been through a lot in the recent past, adn still she couldn't let the anger and hatred rule her behaviour.

The elf still stood there, looking surprised when she came back, and eagerly held out the plate again.

She shook her head. "You're not _my_ elf and you're not my personal assistant. It was a nice gesture, but not needed," she explained. "Since when do you serve students anyway? Especially without being asked?" She stood to her full height now, glaring down at the elf as the mild paranoia that had plagued her since her childhood reared its ugly head. "Listen," she seethed. "I don't know what game you're playing, but I'm telling you to stop!"

"It's no game, little Miss…" he began, finally seeing his chance to cut through her angry tirade, but she stormed off without waiting for him to finish. He heard her tummy rumble loudly and cringed. "Blasted elf," he hissed to himself and vanished.

XXXXX

Poppy came running from her office when she heard the door open with a deafening bang. She stopped short when she saw a frenzied mane of bushy hair fly into her domain, only to throw itself onto the first bed on the window side.

"Miss Granger?" she asked carefully, slightly alarmed by the faint crackling the curly brown locks emitted.

Hermione twisted onto her back, finally allowing the nurse to see the girl's face as the hair was flung backwards.

"Men are… stupid… and so are elves!" she hissed. "And Lavenders and Parvatis, too. They are worse than men and elves together!" Hermione hit her pillow a few times, emitting strange angry noises. "Stupid men; damned cackling elves; useless chocolate pudding eating man!" she actually growled at the last words. "Stupid me, stupid Heart's Keeper…absurd name for a potion…"

"Let me get you a Calming draught," Poppy said more to herself than the vexed witch who was trying to kill her pillow, and hurried to her potions store. She quickly returned before any real damage could be done. "Here, drink this."

"I don't want a Calming Draught," Hermione said petulantly.

"You will drink this if you want to sleep here," Poppy countered knowingly, and saw Hermione calm without the potion, as if realising how she had behaved.

She took the vial and drank it down without a murmur of protest. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," she said quietly and crawled into the bed, allowing the nurse to cover her up.

"Let me bring you something to sleep in, or have you brought something during your flight from...?"

"Gryffindor tower," Hermioen supplied dutifully. Then she only shook her head sadly in answer to the question about night clothes.

Poppy soon returned with a long nightshirt, which judging by the size must have been one of her own. With a spell, she had Hermione undressed, and handed her the sleepwear. With raised eyebrows, she heard a deep rumble from the girl's stomach.

"Hungry?" she asked, but got a head shake in reply.

"I've been to the kitchens," Hermione prevaricated, hoping the nurse wouldn't notice what she wasn't saying. The statement would make Poppy believe she had eaten, and she wanted to keep it that way.

"Do you need anything else?"

"No, thank you," Hermione said sincerely. "But I have a question," she began. "Could I sleep here officially if I'd be your… apprentice, or your assistant, your helper, your willing slave, your bed pan cleaner…?"

"Hush, child. I understood your meaning," Poppy stopped the dazed-looking girl, before she'd get more adventurous with her descriptions. "Is that the potion speaking, or was that an honest request?" she asked and sat on the edge of Hermione's bed.

"That was honest. Really honest, and desperate," Hermione slurred and moved forward until she could put her heavy head into the older woman's lap, closing her eyes. "Let me stay, please."

Poppy didn't answer, but only because the exhausted witch had already succumbed to sleep. Running her fingers through the soft curls, she felt the all-too-familiar wish to have been able to have children.

She knew that becoming a nurse at this school had been a decision based on the fact that she could work with children, and she had always enjoyed her work, mostly able to forget the heartache her barrenness had caused her.

She had been caught in a painful vice of loving the children and occasionally resenting them for having mothers, reminding her of her own failure to be a giver of life. It had been difficult to show her love for the students in her care. But _this_ young woman allowed her motherly instincts to soar and it was heaven.

"Sweet girl," she murmured and watched one of her tears disappear into the array of curls, faintly aware that she was probably getting too attached, but was unable to turn her back on her now.


	24. Chapter 24

Hermione woke early, according to her watch it was only five in the morning. She remembered hazily what she'd asked of Poppy, and felt a little ashamed for her neediness.

That's all she was these days, she realised, as she walked to the kitchen in the faint hopes of finding an awake elf: needy, sad or numb. It was getting on her nerves, but she couldn't quite find a way out. At least not one that didn't include latching onto her Potions professor.

He had laughed about her last night, and even though it hadn't been a derisive laugh, and it must have been the most harmless reaction to her stupidity he'd ever shown in all these years, she had felt oddly hurt.

Now she was just embarrassed, and not so much hurt. It probably would have been alright, if anyone other than him had witnessed her lack of finesse. Yes, she would have seen the humour in the situation, had Neville or Ginny watched how she'd made an arse of herself…

Well, it was to late to dwell on this; she'd just try to avoid him for a while, until she could convince herself that his advanced age might have made him forgetful enough not to remember her shame, or until she'd fly at him to try and hug the poor man in a moment of need.

With a little moan, that didn't even come close to expressing how low she was feeling, she braved her classes and the continued never-ending stares, whispers and pitying or uncaring glances.

What she completely forgot, was the absence of her wand…

xxxxx

"Miss Granger, why aren't you working?" Professor McGonagall asked after seeing Hermione fidget on her chair instead of Transfiguring a tea cosy into a thistle.

"I don't have my wand," Hermione volunteered with a sigh, waiting for the reaction of her classmates.

"Pardon me, Miss Granger," Minerva said with a twitching nerve right above her left eyelid. "I must have misheard, but it sounded as if you said that you didn't have… your wand."

"That is what I said," Hermione said with a gulp, hearing the first titters erupt around her.

"Well, then, well… I'm afraid I have to deduct five points from Gryffindor for unwillingness to learn and for not being prepared for classes," her teacher said with utmost regret.

The titters changed immediately into groans of anger. Hermione glared at them in disbelief.

"You've got to be kidding," Hermione addressed her classmates. "I earned Gryffindor between forty and eighty points in a day, often more, and have done so for years. And you dare to complain when I lose a measly five points?"

Despite her anger, she had managed to stay calm, and her mature tone had most people turn away in shame or at least attempting to look shamed. Then she turned back to her teacher who looked still regretful, but probably for more than just the point deduction.

"I have not forgotten to bring my wand, Professor. I haven't got it anymore."

Minerva simply couldn't follow. "Have you misplaced it, or broken it?" She couldn't get her head around a wand-less Miss Granger.

"No," Hermione began, not sure how much to reveal without appearing even more bonkers than many people already thought her to be. She could hardly tell them that she had left it with her dead mother. "It didn't respond to me as well as before… Well, as before. I might need a new one." Which wasn't a lie, she found: Her wand had really reacted sluggishly, and her connection with it had lessened.

Her teacher didn't respond for a long time, in which everyone had stopped working and was watching the mildly disturbed woman, waiting for her to speak.

Many students twitched in surprise when the seemingly catatonic old witch suddenly straightened. "Have you spoken to the Headmaster about your need for a new wand?"

"No, but he is aware that I have the old one no longer."

With a short nod, Minerva continued in a crispy voice. "I'm afraid you will receive a zero for today, but you may make up for it when you have a new wand. Please speak to the Headmaster after class." With that she went back to correcting the more hapless students, as if nothing had happened.

Hermione heard the giggles and gleeful smirks about her first ever zero in a class. 'I really am the least popular girl in my year,' she thought, trying to push the alternative ending _'in the school'_ from her mind, before she could start crying.

Harry and Ron eyed her from time to time, but she kept her head down and pretended not to notice.

The day was particularly long, and she was quickly fed up with having to explain her wand-less state to every teacher. At the end of the day she felt exhausted, hated, lonely, mad and obscenely hungry.

She had opted not to go through the humiliation to eat amongst her peers, and had also avoided the kitchens, not wanting to accidentally happen upon Snape or the elf.

And so she made her way to Dumbledore's office, looking pale and sweaty. Her greeting was a little raspy due to her dry throat, which hadn't seen any liquid today.

To her immense displeasure, it wouldn't be a cosy talk between her and the Headmaster.

It would be a very merry meeting, she knew, looking around the room, as there was also Snape, McGonagall and Poppy, who was the only one to give her a small smile, which Hermione returned, feeling irrational tears as a reaction to the friendly measure.

"Miss Granger, to be quite blunt, you have some of us worried," the Headmaster began and then stopped speaking, making Hermione wonder whether or not she was supposed to answer or show some kind of reaction. She did neither and merely looked back into the clear blue eyes.

"You seem listless and unenthusiastic in class; you take longer to master new spells, and you haven't shown the slightest interest in getting a new wand," he finally continued.

Every attending pair of eyes was on her, and she still waited for an actual question, so she could answer. Her silence was obviously not helping matters, she noticed, as the teachers looked at each other in confusion.

Maybe it was time to talk. "I…" That was as far as she got before she had to clear her parched throat, which quickly turned into a hacking cough that made her dizzy. When she stood up, in the faint hope to get more oxygen into her protesting lungs, she felt her legs buckle as the world turned a comforting black.

Not only did she meet the blackness that unconsciousness brought on, but also the black-clad arms of her Potions Professor and her supposed Heart's Keeper, who was the first to reach her as she fell. He held her crumbling body and pulled her to him, before picking her up bridal style and sitting back down in his chair, the young woman in his lap.

Only when he looked up again, was he aware of the stares on him.

"What?" he snapped, only expecting mistrust from everyone in the room. He shifted in discomfort, only to accidentally rub himself against the womanly curves settled in his lap, and stilled again, biting his cheek to stop his unwanted arousal. He wasn't used to much human contact, especially any contact with females, and his body reacted instinctively.

'Down, boy!' he scolded himself mentally, appalled at his lack of tact. He was practically molesting the young woman who had recently been raped. Putting her in his lap had sounded quite reasonable under the circumstances, but now he was beginning to regret his rash action.

To his horror, Hermione chose that moment to wake up and shifted in his arms, not helping matters at all. She stopped when she realised where she was, but she made no sign of having noticed the slightly hardened flesh that strained towards her arse. Severus hoped that she wasn't only pretending not to feel the needy appendage under her.

"I'm sorry," she began, and gulped loudly, desperately trying to form some spit. Then she settled against him, resting her head on his shoulder, as she fisted the material of his robes. "I'm tired," she said, sounding surprised, and closed her eyes.

Poppy, who had been hovering nearby, finally walked over, and ignored Severus' poor attempt to hand his burden over in order to scan the snoozing girl's body with her wand.

"She's dehydrated, and hasn't eaten either. That's why she fainted; she's not sick," she told the others, and carefully poured down some Strengthening solution into her mouth.

During the short procedure, Severus found himself fascinated by the inside of Hermione's mouth and the faint few freckles on her nose. He'd never noticed them before.

He was unprepared for the girl's quick awakening, and almost got hit in the face by her ascending head.

With a casual move, but reddened cheeks, she climbed from his lap, which was thankfully no longer tented.

"Sorry, didn't mean to…" she said, looking at her shoes, while gesturing blindly. She didn't know what exactly she was apologising for, but knew that it wouldn't be unhelpful to do so anyway.

Straightening her perfectly fine clothes, she looked at the Headmaster again. "Was there a question earlier?" she asked him.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked.

"Right now?" Hermione wanted to know. "Yes, quite good actually."

"And in general?" he continued calmly, too old not to have dealt with almost every possible behaviour from his students in his years as Headmaster and teacher.

Hermione licked her lips, and heard Snape summon a glass and fill it with a quick, "Aguamenti." Grateful she drank, glad not to see any anger or humour on his face. Once she the glass was empty, she kept it in her hands to keep them from nervously clutching the hem of her skirt.

Might as well be truthful. "I hate every day here. No, that's not quite right," she corrected with a frown, and looked down at the elaborately carved glass in her hands. "I hate classes; it feels too mundane and wrong to sit there in my stellar uniform, pretending to go on with my life like nothing happened."

Minerva sighed and used Hermione's pause to speak. "Do you want to leave and do something else? Or do you just want to hide and eat anywhere but the Great Hall?"

Hermione looked at her teacher sharply, her amber eyes narrowed angrily. "No," she almost spat. "I do not want to hide, but why should I want to eat amongst whispering, glaring, pitying, or worse: gloating students? I hate having others invade my personal space on those blasted benches, I feel like a bloody hen there amongst randy roosters!"

Minerva held up her hands in a calming gesture, while Snape snorted in amusement over her description, only to have Hermione round on him.

"And _you_ can stop laughing at my expense. What good is a Heart's Keeper if he finds amusement in my problems?"

"I haven't done any such thing," he shot back, stung by her words, and uncomfortable discussing their bond in present company. "At least I don't fling ridiculous accusations at _my…_ Heart's Keeper."

Both felt their chest constrict painfully as the glared at each other, knowing that they had hurt each other.

"Blasted spell," he hissed, rubbing his chest.

Hermione took it the wrong way. "Apparently, this _blasted spell _is not a guarantee for a happy, uncomplicated friendship," she snapped. "You should have used something else if the possibility to be bound to stupid little me is so abhorrent to you!"

Their pain doubled, as they flung their unfounded accusations at each other. Hermione stood with a pained cry, and clutched her chest.

"What's happening?" Minerva asked, and was held in her seat by Poppy who quietly explained.

"You two are behaving immaturely," Albus said loudly. "Severus, do you regret having used that ritual?" he asked.

Severus looked at the crying young woman and shook his head, not able to look at her.

"Say it out loud," Hermione ordered shrilly.

"I never regretted using that spell. I may have doubted it, or questioned its possibilities, but I have never regretted it," he barked at her, angry at her for making him speak so freely. More precisely for making him _want _to explain the truth to her; because it felt good to reassure her. For his efforts, he felt the pain in his chest lessen.

"Don't laugh at me," she pleaded, and sat back down, still rubbing her own chest.

"Your abject embarrassment was… endearing," he said; feeling his tongue thicken at the word, as if such an unmanly word was causing an allergic reaction. "Since when are you so affected by some teasing?"

"Because it's you," she began and groaned when the pain increased. "Stop being offended." She sighed when he tried to smother his hurt feelings, relieving her discomfort somewhat. "All I know from you are mean and hurtful comments; it's difficult to understand that not everything you say or do is meant to hurt, no matter how wicked your smirk is," she tried to explain herself. "I didn't even think you knew how to tease," she muttered.

Neither Severus nor Hermione cared about the chuckles her words caused, and she looked straight into his eyes when she continued.

"I find myself opening up to you, needing you for my well-being, and I couldn't understand how my Heart's Keeper could find such delight in basking in my embarrassment."

Gradually, as they stared at each other, their breathing returned to normal, as their chests did the same.

"Come with me," he ordered and was already out of his seat and in front of hers. He held out a hand and pulled her up. "We'll be right back," he said to his colleagues without looking at either one of them.

He pulled her into an antechamber, which only housed hundreds of broken mysterious artefacts and whatnot.

Severus didn't care about what the others might think; only what she thought and needed was important.

"It was funny, and I didn't even laugh," he began, actually quite proud of his mild reaction in the kitchens. "I smiled, which is a rare thing in itself. I never meant to hurt you," he rushed out, frowning in agitation as he waited for her reaction. When it came, he closed his eyes in relief, and gratefully lost his fingers in her soft mane as she pressed her head against his chest.

He heard her sob and felt her small body tremble against his. Soothing warmth flowed between them and re-established their bond.

"Are those happy tears?" he asked dryly, never having understood the paradoxical actions and reactions women seemed to have to happiness. She made a sound of assent, and rubbed her face against his robes.

"I'm glad you used that spell," she mumbled.

"I'm getting used to it," was all he could say without lying. It was a big admission for him and she realised it.

"How long can we stay in here?"

That brought him back to reality, and his previously closed eyes flew open, even as his fingers tightened in her hair unconsciously. His fingertips caressed her scalp without noticing it and she slackened against him.

"We still have to talk," he reminded her, almost sighing in regret.

"Not if it's going to be even more dramatic than what just happened," she murmured, leaning into the massaging digits.

"Come on," Severus said coaxingly and felt her move away. His fingers were more than reluctant to leave their soft, new-found home, and still clung to her when there were a few inches of empty space between their bodies.

"Back into the breach." She sighed and felt his hands drop away. "Thank you for this," she said with a smile.

He nodded, before he could say something soppy.


	25. Chapter 25

Minerva eyed them with narrowed eyes, looking for any signs of frantic kissing or fondling that might have taken place, but didn't see a hair out of line. Then she saw the stupidity of her action: One would never notice if Hermione had mussed hair, as it looked windswept every day, and Severus' lank locks were too greasy to do anything other than hang down limply.

She found herself turning back to the Headmaster, waiting for him to begin the next discussion, and found a glower sent her way. She answered it with a guilty, yet annoyed eye-roll. Albus really presumed a bit much by expecting her to just let the two bonded people do as they wished.

She must have looked a bit too head-strong and unwilling to relent, as Albus first words made her fidget in embarrassment.

"If Minerva is quite finished looking for any signs of copulation, we can continue with our talk," Albus said bluntly with an unamused stare in Minerva's direction.

Minerva wasn't the only one to turn red with these outspoken words, but Hermione's cheeks filled with colour due to her rising anger. She gave her Head-of-House a grim look, and demonstrably pulled her chair away from McGonagall to place it next to Snape.

The man didn't now whether to be grateful for her silent defence or worried about how it might look. He did what he did best: look unaffected. But even _that_ got miraculously hard whenever he was in the young woman's presence.

"Let's get back to why we are meeting in the first place," Dumbledore began. His intense eyes looked at no one but Hermione. "We can all understand that circumstances have had a profound effect on you, and it must be hard to try and just get on with your life. Everyone has a different way of dealing with heavy burdens, and I won't begrudge you yours, but it is affecting your classes, and your social life."

"I've only had two days worth of classes," Hermione threw in. "You can hardly say that my academic career is in jeopardy. Besides, I cannot recall ever having much of a social life."

Albus nodded. "That is true, but you don't seem overly eager to even acquire a new wand to actually take part in your lessons again. We are a magical school, and a wand is imperative," he said, and Hermione was fairly sure to detect some humour in his voice.

"Maybe I can get one on Friday, either before or after my parents'… burial," she proposed, indicating Severus with a nod in his direction. Her voice remained steady, but she swallowed hard at the mere thought of going shopping on the day she would bury her parents under heavy layers of soil.

"That might be for the best," the Headmaster said, glad to have one thing resolved. "The other thing we wanted to talk about the request you have made of Poppy."

Hermione shifted in her chair, not sure where this was going.

"It is highly unusual to take on an apprentice or even an assistant while he or she is still a student." He saw her face fall a little, and smiled to himself.

Only Severus' showed his surprise at her pessimistic behaviour. Just a few weeks ago she probably would have tried to argue with the Headmaster and would have given a detailed argumentation why she should be allowed to work with Poppy, complete with a five foot long essay to undermine her reasoning.

But the expected pain in his chest kept to a minimum, and he wondered what that was about. Had she expected her chances of being accepted by Poppy been low in the first place? Surely she must know how much the nurse seemed to like her, by now.

"What we can offer you is unprecedented, but the Ministry has given its agreement to our idea," Albus continued, seeing her renewed interest. "You could take your N.E.W.T.'s early and begin as Poppy's official trainee. That offer only stands, unfortunately, if you want to begin an actual career in Mediwizardry; merely wanting to try out the subject wasn't enough for the Ministry."

Hermione sat motionless, a concentrated frown marring her already over-tired features. She hardly knew what she wanted anymore. One moment she would love to leave teh wizarding world behind and at that it entailed, the next she couldn't imagine a life away from the castle... Her mind was a jumbled mess.

Poppy looked already disappointed that Hermione hadn't jumped at the offer, while Severus desperately wanted to know what she was thinking. His fingertips tingled as his mind told him to just delve into her thoughts, but he doubted that it would go over well.

"Would it be possible to just take my exams early and leave school before the year is out?" Hermione was careful not to look at Poppy, but saw her slump out of the corner of her eye. She felt like a huge disappointment. She seemed to have a sudden knack for letting down those she cared for.

Albus looked disturbed; that had not been part of his plan. "Well, no. That is unfortunately not possible."

"How long is the training?" she asked, finally turning to Poppy with guilty tears in her eyes.

The nurse cleared her throat. "Only three years for the general education. During that time you are to choose a field of special interest, and that usually adds a few more years to the training, depending on which field you would chose."

"Can I think about it?" Hermione croaked; miserable tears running down her face.

Severus grimaced, finally feeling her distress. His hand rubbed his chest, knowing that the action was futile.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said to Poppy and to the man next to her, as she noticed his discomfort.

Poppy gave her a wobbly smile, while Severus reached over to her, trying to make her lose her death grip on her skirt before she could tear the material. He was slightly discomfited when Hermione grasped his hand and held it tight, pressing it against her chest to calm herself.

Minerva didn't like to see her in so much anguish, and seeing her cling to Severus and fearing that the the girl would crawl into the man's lap made her speak up.

"You'd get your own quarters, of course. You won't be able to sleep in the infirmary, but nearby. You can eat with your mentor, or at the Head Table."

"Then I'd really like to do it," Hermione rushed out, smiling at Minerva and Poppy.

Severus winced mildly, as his student practically crushed his thin fingers with a happy smile on her face. She made a lovely picture, he found, with her wet but luminous eyes.

"Don't rush into this if this profession is not for you. You'd be stuck with me for at least three years," Poppy warned, secretly hoping not to make the girl change her mind again.

"I have always been interested in Mediwizardry," Hermione said earnestly, playing with Snape's fingers absentmindedly. "It has always been on the top of possible jobs."

"Not wanting to follow Potter's aspiration to become an Auror?" Severus asked, trying not to purr under her unwitting caress. No one had ever stroked this body part, he thought, but pushed that uncomfortable fact aside.

"No," she said aghast at the idea. "I'm more of a caring, nurturing person. Blasting people out of their robes is not my greatest ambition."

Even Minerva laughed at her description of the sought-after Auror job, trying not to cringe at the continued attraction Severus' fingers held for the student.

"There's no need to clean my fingernails," Severus said dryly, and chuckled at Hermione's embarrassed "Oh" as she handed his arm back over with a blush.

"I'm glad we have that sorted, my dear. We have already come up with a lesson plan for the next few weeks. You have a months to prepare for your N.E.W.T.s, and we assumed you might want some time to study," the Headmaster said, handing Hermione a piece of parchment with her schedule.

Albus looked at the brilliant young woman, slightly surprised by her utter lack of stress. Normally, the word 'exam' had Hermione running in circles, and everyone suffered under her tenacious need to fill every spare second with revision. Now she only nodded with the tiniest of smiles.

When no further questions arose, Dumbledore continued. "Now, we still have one thing to do," he said. "We would like to test your bond, if that's okay with you," he said, looking at Hermione.

"You have to ask him as well, not just me." Hermione pointed at her Potions professor. "As it affects us both, you need his permission, too," she said staunchly, making the others smile at her sense of fairness.

"I have already asked him, my dear," Albus reassured her with a twinkle.

"Oh, well, yes, then, I think," she stuttered, feeling a little idiotic.

"Very well," the Headmaster said with a beam, leaning back in his chair to guide the proceedings. "Before we start, I'd like to remind all of you not to reveal anything we see tonight."

Everyone nodded, except for Severus. But then he was used to secrecy.

"We should start with another test of the Disillusionment Charm. Let's see if it still works. Severus, if you could?"

Severus stood and disappeared from view and must have added a Silencing Charm again, as the teachers' faces swivelled around the room with narrowed eyes, as they tried to pinpoint his location.

"Miss Granger, can you still see him?"

"Yes, he's stroking Fawkes," she said and smiled at the Professor who was indeed caressing the impressive bird's plumage with incredibly soft strokes. He stopped when he ended both charms, and returned to his seat.

"Was he still… shimmering?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, he's... rippling like a reflection in the water."

"Well, now your turn, Miss Granger," the Headmaster said with obvious delight. He was just like a child as it discovered something new.

Hermione did as she was told, and moved her invisible body over to the huge bookshelves on the far wall.

She studied the titles with fascination, finally finding some interest in her beloved books again. She doubted she had the energy to read as much and as often as she used to, but the thirst for the written word was back, it seemed.

"Finite Incantatem," she dimly heard and only turned at the sound of laughter. Snape had his wand trained on her with a lop-sided grin. The others were equally amused. Apparently, she had failed to pay attention, and forgot to end the spells when Snape had pointed her out. He had to do it for her, only to make her reappear with a hand stretched out to reach a book.

"Marvellous," Albus exclaimed, as a blushing Hermione sat back down in her chair. "So, can you read each other's thoughts yet?"

"No," Severus said harshly. "And we will not be testing that," he ordered.

The old wizard held his hand up in a pacifying gesture. "Poppy told me about the one case she had witnessed, and…"

"Oh, really?" Hermione interrupted, looking at the nurse with slightly reproachful eyes. "I didn't know there is a documented case."

"Sorry, dear, I only told Severus. It was all so new, and… Sorry."

Hermione nodded in understanding, but was still a bit miffed for not having all the information.

"As I was saying," Albus began again, not disturbed by the small pause. "That couple…"

"A couple?" Hermione couldn't help but interject, but quickly subsided. "Sorry," she muttered, gesturing Albus to continue. The black-haired man next to her snorted in amusement.

"That couple could sense each other's moods, even when apart. That could be similar to the feelings of distress you sense from each other. Have you felt feelings from your bonded?"

'My bonded,' Severus thought and felt a shudder run down his front, ending in a sizzling feeling low in his tummy. It felt good, and he wished he could close his eyes to savour the feeling.

"I haven't," he heard Hermione say, and he also shook his head, not wanting to disturb the still lingering feeling by talking.

"Anything else you have discovered, other than being able to soothe your troubled souls by touch?"

His poetic wording made Hermione grin at him with surprise. "You must be a romantic at heart," she blurted out, forgetting for a second who she was talking to. "Sorry, don't mind me," she rushed out, feeling another blush creep over her cheeks.

Severus hadn't been this amused in years and unabashedly grinned. She could be so endearing.

"Will you stop snorting!" the young woman hissed at him, only making him grin wider. "Poppy should have a look at that sinus problem, or is that a natural noise?" she grumbled, but was quite fascinated by the unprecedented behaviour from the normally grim man.

"Cheeky snitch," he chortled, before remembering that they weren't alone. He cleared his throat, but couldn't quite wipe the smile off his face.

Albus found their interplay fascinating, and he was pleased to see the changes the young lady's presence had on Severus in such a short time.

"Has either of you noticed when you stopped addressing each other properly? I cannot recall the last time I've heard a 'Miss Granger' or a 'Professor' from you," Dumbledore asked.

That brought both back to earth, and they looked at each other with mirroring puzzled expressions.

"Never mind, I don't want an answer, just be careful when you are amongst others," Albus warned.

"Well, unless anyone else wants to say something, I only have one last question," he continued. When no one had anything to add, he spoke again. "I know any touch between you is calming, but especially the region of your chests is the most effective, am I right?" Both Severus and Hermione nodded guardedly. "What would actually happen if you were to remove your clothing before touching?" he asked eagerly.

"Wait! What?" Minerva was sputtering loudly. "You want them to… They cannot… ALBUS!"


	26. Chapter 26

Sensing the upcoming confrontation, Severus quickly stood and dragged a gaping Hermione with him. Poppy hastily followed them to safety, before Minerva's hollering could end in a mindless hexing of everyone around her.

Neither of them cared much about Dumbledore's fate and put their safety first. It served the old man right to suffer the irate witch's displeasure, but at least he had his phoenix with him for protection against all too painful hexes.

"Did he mean it in the way I thought he did?" Hermione asked shocked, as she practically jogged next to the tall man.

"I sincerely doubt it," Severus said, hoping that he was right. "He might be beyond bearable with his occasional dottiness, but he isn't completely barmy." After a few more steps he looked at Poppy for confirmation. "Right?"

The nurse shrugged, not sure what to make out of the Headmaster's actions and words, and certainly not willing to admit that she found Albus' question intriguing.

xxxxxxxxx

Meanwhile Harry Potter made up his mind and approached the person he needed to speak to. It was important to him to somehow keep the trio intact, as friends and family meant everything to him. Ron might be a berk at times, but he had redeeming features, and Harry was ready to give him another chance.

"Ron, we need to talk," Harry said as he neared the chair the redhead sat in.

"Five points from Gryffindor for hitting a Prefect," Ron said grumpily, and watched his Harry with wary eyes.

Harry was a bit confused by the nonsensical answer, until he remembered.

"It's a bit late for that," Harry huffed. "Besides, I think you really deserved that." He wasn't about to apologise for punching Ron's nose.

"How could I know that her parents died?" he defended himself.

"It doesn't matter that you didn't know," Harry said angrily and sat down opposite the other boy, "neither of us knew, after all. I was angry that you have been nothing but mean to her since she came back, and you made her angrier than I've ever seen."

"It's not my fault. Why should I be nice, when she ignores me all the time? She doesn't like me anymore, so why should I be nice to her?" He couldn't have sounded more childish had he tried to.

Harry looked at the young man who had been his best friend for a few years now, wondering when Ron had become so obtuse, or when he himself had outgrown the redhead.

"She is our friend, and that means that we should be there for her. She's sad and… disoriented; it's no wonder she behaves differently," Harry explained patiently, hoping to get through to the hot-headed boy.

"She doesn't want me there. She wanted _you_," Ron said bitterly, glaring at Harry.

"You all but smothered her after she had been… r-raped!" Harry said hotly, wanting to shake some sense into him. "I am with Ginny, as you well you, and I'm not interested in Hermione in that way."

Ron scoffed moodily. "Stop telling me what I did wrong; you walked away from her, too, after Hagrid's class," he pointed out nastily. "Don't tell me what to do, when you have no idea how to deal with her either."

Harry leaned back in his chair, running his hands through his untidy hair. "I was just hurt that she didn't accept my help," he admitted, feeling like a right fool. He hadn't behaved much better than Ron at the first sign of adversity.

Ron was giving him a superior grin that made his blood boil, but he tried again for Hermione's sake.

"Look, do you want to be friends with her again?" At Ron's nod, he continued. "Good, then we need to get her to talk to us. Once she confides in us, she will feel better, I'm sure, and things can go back to normal."

Ron seemed to think about Harry's plan for a moment before agreeing to it.

"When and how?" he asked.

"Tomorrow, I guess. It's her birthday soon, and I don't want to be on the outs with her on that day," Harry told him, and they spent the next half-an-hour with talking about how they would get her to talk to them.

They saw Hermione return some time later, noticing her changed mood. The drawn look was gone and she didn't look so defeated anymore. One couldn't call her ecstatic or even cheerful, but she had an energised aura around her.

The boys exchanged bewildered looks.

"She looks better," Harry said. "Maybe she's recovering, already. A talk with us should help even more," he said, sounding convinced, but when Ginny joined them after a while, he was suddenly not keen on sharing his plans.

"So, guys, what have you been talking about with your heads bent?" she asked jokingly. But when the boys answered with a simultaneous "Nothing", she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Nothing to do with Hermione, I hope," she warned.

The resounding "No" did nothing to convince her. "Be careful, I'm warning you," she added and got off of Harry's lap and left. Their shifty eyes could hardly meet hers and she wanted to warn her female friend.

Hermione, meanwhile, stood in her dormitory and looked at the mess that was her wardrobe and desk. All her stuff had been thrown about and scattered across the floor. Upturned inkpots had stained what seemed to be her school shirts, as well as her white bras and undies.

Her trunk, which Albus had kindly picked up from her home, was overturned, with its lid broken. Her school notes of seven years were scattered everywhere, partly ripped or crumpled.

A quick look at her four-poster revealed that her bedding was missing, as well, along with the pair of pyjamas that had been under the pillow.

Hermione stood still amidst her damaged belongings, not knowing whether to cry or scream. Laughing was not an option she was capable of at seeing this cruelty. She knew who must have been responsible for this, and heard those two most likely suspects enter the room after her.

"Oh dear," Lavender said with mock surprise and shock. "What happened here?"

When Hermione didn't answer, she went over to her own bed and casually threw herself onto it, making space for a grinning Parvati.

"Could have been the same person that threw our bedding out, don't you think, Par?"

The dark-haired girl just nodded, waiting gleefully for Hermione's reaction. They knew she had no wand, and that made the situation a lot safer; otherwise they would have thought twice to even be in the same room as Hermione after destroying her possessions. She might be known as a peaceful girl, but was known to hex when sufficiently brassed off.

But the curly-haired witch didn't want to give them the satisfaction of letting them see her subdued tears. She knelt down on the floor, feeling quite humiliated as she sat in a nest of her own ripped underwear, and slowly began to gather her stuff.

She said absolutely nothing and kept her lips pressed together before she could give the girls the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Her shaking fingers picked up everything they could find as quickly as possible, only knowing that this was the last time she would ever sleep in this room. She'd camp outside if necessary – anything to be free of these cruel and heartless bitches.

"Not so tough now, are you?" Lavender sniped, but got no answer.

Hermione threw everything in her trunk, not caring about folding anything or even screwing the lid back on the nearly empty inkpot as she chucked it in as well. There wasn't much to pack, she noticed with relief, and slowly got up. The last items to get were her things from the bathroom, and she walked in there without acknowledging the other girls.

On the way out, she noticed Lavender's wand lying on her nightstand, and she transferred her toothbrush and shampoo in her left hand to snatch the slim piece of wood.

Lavender noticed too late and found herself at the end of her own wand, and was stopped by the deadly expression on the usually calm bookworm, who'd mostly avoided all confrontation.

"I will get a new wand sooner or later, Brownie," Hermione said with a burning anger that made her voice sound impressively foreboding. "But until then…"

With a few whispered words, she aimed and fired a spell at the scared-looking girls. Their shrieks were balm to her ears and she carelessly dropped the wand and marched out of her dorm of six years, pulling her trunk.

The vain creatures she'd left behind would have tried to follow and hex her, had they not been hit by a curse that made their hair fall out for a few days. Their vengeful shrieks could be heard all the way to the common room, and the older students whipped out their wands, ready to fight if needed.

Ginny was the first to meet Hermione on the stairs.

"What's wrong? Who's screaming?" she asked alarmed. "Where are you going? Are you okay, Hermione?"

The older witch didn't stop, and began pulling her trunk down the steps. She was making one hell of a noise with the item, adding to the cacophony from her old dorm.

"I've had enough of these two hags," she said savagely, and wanted to push her blasted trunk down the stairs, but feared the damaged clasps would not survive the fall.

Ginny noticed Hermione's fight with tears and gently pulled the trunk from her weak hands, pulling the trunk down herself. A quick spell, and the abominable screeching and calls for revenge that echoed down the staircase were silenced.

Hermione's breath hitched and she bit her palm to stop from crying out.

"Shh," Ginny crooned softly and stopped walking for a moment. "Come on, let's go to my room."

"No, I want to be as far away from here as possible. I'll try the infirmary," she sniffed.

Others were coming up the stairs with their wands extended. At the front the sixth year Prefect Rosalie Redwood, followed by a few seventh years.

"What was that?" she asked with big eyes, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

Hermione turned her face away and let Ginny answer.

"Hermione and those cows she has to share her room with got into a disagreement," the redhead said with an angry grimace that was twisting her pretty features. "They lost," she added with no little satisfaction and pulled Hermione's trunk past the assembled students.

While the others debated over checking up on Lavender and Parvati or not, Hermione and Ginny walked further down the stairs.

"Gods, I'm stupid," the younger witch sighed and pulled out her wand again. "It was completely natural to use it for Silencing the two witches, but then I stupidly copied you and pulled this heavy trunk."

Hermione smiled weakly. "At least you were sympathetic to my wandless state, no matter how unintentionally," she retorted.

Ginny grinned and Levitated the trunk the rest of the way. "Come on, girl, let's get you out of here."

They rushed through the common room, not answering any of the hundreds of questions that were being thrown their way.

Harry and Neville wanted to accompany them, but Ginny said that this was girls' time, and she would not allow anything that had a penis to follow them. The blunt words were enough to make the blushing young man stay behind.

On the way to the infirmary, Ginny wanted to know what really happened just now, and Hermione gave her all the details, not leaving out her own role in the fiasco.

The youngest Weasley was so angry she almost dropped the trunk on some stairs.

"How could they? Not everyone gets on with everyone, but that's no excuse for such cruelty! Why didn't you say something? You haven't complained once on all those years."

Hermione shrugged. "My mum always told me to ignore bullies. She was convinced that they would get bored eventually and leave me alone."

Ginny groaned loudly at Hermione's naiveté. "You waited six years to see if your mother was right?" she asked incredulously.

Hermione rubbed her face with a dismayed sound. "They were so childish, and I didn't want to lower myself to their infantile level and join their pranks and insults. I also hate tattle-tales," she said sadly, feeling childish already for having hexed the two idiotic girls, no matter how much they had deserved it.

Ginny just looked at the older witch with pity in her eyes, but she could understand her, too. She was the most mature witch of the entire school, and it must be hard to cope with a bunch of brainless twits everyday.

"Wait, I'll do the rest," Hermione suddenly said, and stopped Ginny with a hand on her arm.

"What? Here? But were miles away from the infirmary," she said aghast.

"It's okay, Ginny, really. I just… want to be alone for a while."

Ginny hesitated, not liking the idea of leaving Hermione all alone out here.

"I'll be fine, Gin. Don't worry."

"If something happens, I'll hex you," the young redhead threatened with a wry pout, but finally turned away. It was a silly threat made out of concern, and made Hermione smile weakly.

She waited until Ginny's footsteps had died away, before pulling her trunk along the corridor. She didn't go straight to the infirmary, but into the direction of the kitchen.

The way seemed longer than ever with a heavy trunk on her arm, but she kept going, hating the loud scraping noise she caused, which even annoyed the portraits she passed.

Sweat covered her body, and she felt the lack of stamina quite keenly, as she slowly made her way to her goal.

Finally, she got there, and she tickled the pear, too replete to enjoy the tantalising wriggling of the fruit in her fingers.

"What are you doing, little Miss?" the familiar elf said in an oddly high-pitch that could have portrayed anger, Hermione presumed. "You looks ghastly, and you smells of sweat."

"I'm overjoyed to see you, too," she said subdued, already cursing her idea of coming here. She grasped the handle of the trunk again, and made to pull it away again.

The elf noticed what she was trying to do, and didn't like it one bit. "You comes in now!" the elf shouted, its features twisting dangerously, making Hermione stumble back in shock at the sight. The remains of his ears flattened and his eyes bulged, while two rows of sharp and pointy teeth reminded her of a shark that was about to attack.

Seeing her alarm made him calm again, and he shook his head to regain control over himself.

"I is sorry, little Miss, but you should come in now. Please. I makes you food, whatever you want," he promised and tried to look as cheerful and eager as Dobby was wont to do.

It only served to make Hermione instantly suspicious. That wasn't the elves true character she knew from the few times she had met him. She inched backwards, only wanting to get away, but the elf walked past her trunk and made to follow.

"S-stay away," she rasped, felling fear take over and turn her muscles into mush.

"Calm down, little Miss, I mean you no harm," he tried, stretching his remaining arm out towards her.

"Go aw…" Only breath escaped from her dry mouth, and she tried again. "Go away!" Her voice broke on the plea that should have been a demand.

Her legs got weaker with every step and she stumbled, only making the elf rush forward.

"Shhh, I is not wanting to hurt you. Stay still!" he ordered, and suddenly stopped.

As soon as her tiny pursuer came to a halt, Hermione made to turn and run away, but didn't get far. Her elbow made contact with something solid that was too soft and warm to be a wall. A hand clamped around her arm, and in her frightened state she couldn't even voice her terror; the scream she longed to let out was lodged in her throat. The warm feeling, where the person touched her, hardly registered.

"It's me," she heard the familiar smooth voice, but all she felt was warm breath stirring her hair, and she was powerless to stop her eyes from rolling back in her head.

* * *

AN.: I don't know why I often tend to end with a cliffhanger. I certainly don't do it on purpose! But you all know who she ran into anyway, so it's not an evil cliffie.


	27. Chapter 27

AN: This story now has a beta, who offered her services after cringing about my atrocious knowledge of grammer and punctuation. A big thanks, to mw78! :)

* * *

"What did you do?" Severus asked the elf with a glare, trying to get a better hold on the dead weight that threatened to slide to the floor. He couldn't get a grip on Hermione, who only flopped uselessly against him.

"I was afraid she mights leave," the elf said, with an angry frown on his face. Actually, he wasn't angry with Hermione or Snape, but with himself. "I didn't mean to scare little Miss," he wailed, wanting to dip his only hand in boiling oil as a punishment.

"Don't even think about it," Severus warned, having seen that expression on many elves before. "Where shall I bring her?" he asked, after finally managing to get her into his arms. His cheeks had a mild pink sheen to them, courtesy of Hermione's left breast; it had accidentally landed under his palms as he tried to manoeuvre her in his grip.

"Our chambers," the elf said, subdued as he led the teacher into the kitchen. Together, they walked through the empty room and steered towards a blank stretch of wall that only opened after the little creature tapped it in several places.

"Use the couch, sir, I shall bring her trunk," the poor elf said, and vanished. Although the task would only have taken him a few seconds, he took his time, probably to punish himself in some way.

Severus sat down with Hermione still in his arms, not quite ready to put the warm body down. Only his fear of another fainting drama if she woke in his lap made him finally slide her into the free seat next to him. There wasn't enough space for her there, but instead of enlarging the sofa, he put her in a sitting position, selfishly enjoying her comforting presence as she leaned on him.

Elves of both sexes and every age milled about the room, all living in what was like an overly large family, none of them minding his presence in the least.

There was a soft and sad-sounding '_pop'_ as the elf reappeared with Hermione's trunk.

"It's broken, I shall fix it," he announced. With a frown of concentration and a click of his fingers, the lid repaired itself. Checking the contents, the elf then noticed the mess inside. Lifting a few ink stained garments out, he showed them to a puzzled Snape.

"I shall have those cleaned and… fixed," the elf said, now holding up a pair of torn knickers to the now blushing man on the sofa. "Can I get you anything, sir?" he asked, not quite looking Snape in the eye.

"You know very well that you don't have to call me that in private," Severus admonished the elf, rolling his eyes at the dramatic, remorseful ear-twitching the elf displayed.

However, before they could talk any further, Severus put his finger to his lip, motioning the elf to be quiet. The creature's eyes got bigger in understanding, and he simply vanished along with her trunk, not wanting to be seen.

Ever so quietly, Hermione was waking up.

xxxxx

'Snape…,' had been her last conscious thought. Though she had felt ridiculous for playing the poor maiden in need, she just hadn't been able to fight unconsciousness.

On waking, the first thing she became aware of was something warm against her side. She didn't have to ask who she was resting against, but she did wonder where he had taken her.

"Better?" she heard him ask calmly, not surprised that he knew she was awake even though her eyes were still closed and she hadn't moved – or at least she thought she hadn't.

Hermione hummed quietly and stayed where she was, letting his presence soothe her.

"Either I have interpreted the Heart's Keeper spell wrongly," he began, "or I must have missed the bit where it said my touch would make you slump to the floor like a sack of potatoes."

His voice was dryer than the Sahara, causing her to chuckle. She was still refusing to open her eyes, not wanting to go back to reality yet. The other reason was her mild embarrassment. Snape had seen her in various states of shock and overwhelming fear or grief since her return to Hogwarts, but falling unconscious in his arms was just too silly.

"Were you intending to flee the castle?" he continued, surprising Hermione by leading the conversation.

"Just Gryffindor tower," she admitted, finally sitting up with a sigh as she blinked repeatedly to get her bearings.

She was sitting in a vast room filled with rows and rows of beds along the long walls. They were small in size, reminding Hermione of _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_, causing her to giggle. There were also similarly sized tables, chairs and shelves – all intended for use by small beings.

With a fire roaring in front of her, Hermione stretched on the sofa she found herself on; the only thing in the room large enough for a human. Elves walked around everywhere, and for the first time in her life, Hermione saw an elf baby. Its mother was carrying it attached to her back by an invisible force, its thin ears bigger than its head.

"Oh," she whispered in awe, and heard a soft huff of laughter from the man next to her. "These aren't your quarters, are they?" she asked. "Or have you started to breed an elf army in an unused bedroom?"

He chuckled at her silliness; he hadn't expected a student to have any sense of humour that he could appreciate. He had rather thought that they only were able to make dirty little jokes, or sprout silly anecdotes that they had copied from many generations before them without even knowing it. In contrast, he found that he rather liked her slight tendency to be sarcastic.

He was also a little bemused at her rapid change of mood. It seemed like only a few moments ago that he had seen her faint with sheer terror, and now she was behaving as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"No, these are the house-elves' rooms, or well, _the _room," he explained absentmindedly, his mind already on the next question. "Why did you not recognise, or at least feel me when I touched you?"

"I knew it was you as soon as you touched my arm, but my fear was bigger than recognition," she said back uncaringly, more interested in her surroundings than her fairy tale damsel-in-distress-swooning. "Where exactly are we? How can they all live like this, with no privacy? When do elves start working? Do they marry…?"

Her onslaught of questions petered out as she remembered something, turning to Snape with a paranoid glint in her eyes.

"Where is that scary elf, and why did he scare me? You must have seen him, didn't you?" Whispering, after taking a careful glance at the elves nearby, she then asked her last question. "Could he be a spy? It seems plausible; he was awfully nice to me before."

"Someone being nice to you makes you suspicious?" he asked, incredulous, only to see her shrug. _She is beginning to sound like me_, he thought.

"I think so, especially because it's an elf. They usually avoid me," she told him, sounding upset. "They all fear me as the weird girl that forced clothes on them," she hissed, sotto voce, but despite her efforts, the two elves that were passing her at the time upped their pace and retreated with angry glares on their faces. They had heard the dreaded c-word.

Hermione gulped in chagrin, but heard Snape snort.

"I never knew that they could be that dangerous," she whispered, unconsciously shifting closer to the man next to her.

"He didn't mean to scare you," Severus told her assuredly. "He can tell you himself. Nop!" he called out, and a moment later the disfigured house elf appeared, twisting his fingers into his toga-like garment.

Despite her sudden mistrust of the elf she had come to like, Hermione didn't want to let Snape get away with what she thought was a slight.

"That was mean, you shouldn't call him names," she reprimanded him, not caring about their difference in age and status. The bond had started a friendship, and friends are equal.

Severus looked at her nonplussed. "I haven't called him anything!"

"You called him… knob," she hissed furiously, keeping a diligent eye on the elf that still stood in front of them while she poked Snape's thigh reproachfully.

"That's his name," Severus retorted, not seeing her problem as he pushed her pointy fingers away from his probably bruised leg.

"Who in the name of Merlin would call an elf after a man's… genitalia?" she asked, with a rising blush.

The twisted grimace that was developing on her teacher's face made her lean closer to him in alarm. "Are you alright?" she asked worriedly.

Severus nodded jerkily, as he tried to smother a laugh rather unsuccessfully. He looked at the elf, who was looking less sad and more annoyed with every second.

"N.O.P.," the elf explained with pursed lips. "I am not named after a wizard's ghastly-looking reproductive organ," he huffed, hissing angrily as Snape gave up trying to hide his amusement.

Hermione blushed. _She_ was the one that had promoted fairness, freedom and good treatment for house-elves for years, and now she was the one insulting them. Or at least one of them.

Snape was still sniggering to himself, his shoulders shaking with mirth, and soon both Hermione and Nop were watching him with stern expressions.

"Grow up, Master," the elf said, finally making Snape straighten up.

"Y-you're his m-master?" Hermione asked, hurt and distrust marring her features once more. She got off the couch, not knowing what to make of this development. Why were they so secretive, the two of them?

Severus' amusement vanished quickly as he began to feel discomfited by her expression.

"I am, but I saw no need to tell you. I didn't even know you two had met so often until I saw you interact in the infirmary," he explained, giving his elf another stern glance.

"But you are… you should have…" Hermione broke off with a befuddled frown. She had no idea what she thought, wanted or expected.

"I'm what?" Snape asked softly, even though he had an inkling as to what she was trying to tell him. "Your bonded?"

She looked uncomfortable, feeling ridiculous with her presumptuous behaviour.

He shook his head, but not in a belittling way. "I'm beginning to understand that we share a connection, but even though I'm not… averse to it," he said, gulping at having to say the last words, "I am not going to divulge all my secrets to you."

"But friends are supposed to tell each other—" She broke off guiltily.

"Like you told Potter and Weasley everything that happened to you?" he asked, with a knowing smirk. He patted the seat next to him, and was glad when the blushing girl sat down again.

"I am still a spy, as you well know," he said, noticing her frantic look at all the elves that were privy to his words. "They will not talk; they are bound to Hogwarts and Albus," he reassured her, "but as I was saying, I cannot tell you everything, even if I wanted to."

She nodded, still saddened by what she thought was a lack of trust. She was being hypocritical, she knew, but couldn't help how she felt.

"But is having an elf such a big secret that felt you couldn't tell me?"

"No, I simply didn't think it important enough to even mention it to you."

That sounded logical, so Hermione nodded again, this time a bit more sincerely. She looked at the elf. He still had not moved, but was watching her intently.

"Why did you scare me?" she asked bluntly.

"I was afraid my master's bonded would leave before he could stop her," he answered truthfully. "He needs you."

Snape frowned to himself at the elf's words, whereas Hermione looked doubtful.

"I need him more than he needs me, I think. You make it sound as if I had condemned him to a life not worth living if I had left," she harrumphed with incredulous amusement, not seeing the elf's sober expression.

Severus did, though, and he promised to talk to his wayward elf at a later stage.

"I apologise, little Miss, I hope you can forgive me," the elf said humbly, bowing deeply.

When he failed to straighten again, Hermione looked at Snape questioningly. His solemn face told her to find the solution herself. Kneeling down in front of the elf, she gently touched his shoulder, feeling leathery elf skin for the first time in her life.

"It's perfectly fine to be worried for your master," she consoled him. "I promise not to leave. Not him, nor Hogwarts, so there's no need to be scared, or frighten me for that matter," she said.

Upon hearing her words, he relaxed and slowly brought his remaining hand up to grasp her behind the ear, tilting her head further down, until their foreheads touched.

"That's how elves greet each other," he revealed in a breathy voice.

"Am I supposed to hold your ears, too?" she asked in an awed tone, keeping her voice quiet in deference to the importance of the revelation. She somehow doubted that many humans were greeted this way.

Nop snorted softly. "What's left of them," he quipped, not sounding too bothered about his imperfection. He was surprised when she grasped the mauled ears without hesitation.

"My little Miss," he said, his voice softer than velvet.

When he released her, she rocked back on her heels, almost falling on her arse. A steadying hand swiftly touched the small of her back to keep her upright. The contact was light and stopped as soon as she was stable.

She smiled down at the elf, still smaller than her despite her kneeling position, and suddenly became aware of the absolute silence that surrounded her. Every elf had stopped what they were doing to watch the scene.

Instinctively, Hermione bowed her head slightly. When she looked up again, hundreds of greenish heads followed her lead before slowly returning to whatever they had been doing.

She blindly reached behind her and found a strong male hand taking hers. Snape pulled her up, and she re-seated herself next to him again, still confused about what had taken place.

She opened her mouth to ask a question and found his dark eyes on her, which stopped her from speaking for a moment.

"What was that?"

"They welcomed you officially. You can now return here whenever you want."

"They haven't pledged any service to me, have they?"

He licked his lips before speaking. "No, only Nop did. He will now come when you call him."

Her eyes got huge at that revelation. It was bad enough to have an elf at her service after campaigning for an abolishment of their slavery, but to be able to command Snape's elf was too much.

"I didn't know he would do that," she said quickly, hoping she hadn't offended him by stealing his elf. "I don't need him, he's all yours."

He shook his head and she looked even more pleadingly at him. Her earnest eyes bored into his. "I didn't know Hogwarts' elves could to that."

He quirked his lips at her discomfort.

"He is not a Hogwarts' elf. He is a Snape elf, and has been in my family for many years. It is within his right to offer himself to a person that is bonded to me. _Only_ to a bonded person."

"Like a wife," Nop put in helpfully, when Hermione just stared at Snape with impossibly wide eyes.

The elf took a step back at Snape's growl and Hermione's squeak. "It was just an example," he defended himself.

"So we really are bonded then?" she asked, voice unnaturally high.

Severus narrowed his eyes, wondering if the thought was horrific to her, even though it shouldn't have been. The idea if the spell was to allow you to find the person who could see you for what you really are and still accept you. She shouldn't be disgusted.

"So it would seem," he replied, waiting for her reaction with baited breath.

Her hand, which was still clasped in his since she had sat down next to him again, was slightly sweaty, but she squeezed his fingers and leaned back against him with a shuddery sigh.

"Thank you," she said, sending Nop a luminous smile which he returned with a wide-toothed grin. Then she turned to Snape, who was still watching her with narrowed eyes.

"And thank you," she said, burying her face in his shoulder while carefully wrapping an arm around his chest.

"What for?"

"For existing," was her reply.

Such simple words, yet they carried so much meaning for him. Who had ever been happy that he existed? He carefully pushed the emotions that threatened to escape to the side, and only allowed his brain to process her one-armed hug and nothing else. Turning his head a little, he could feel her soft curls and inhale her fruity scent.

Nop watched his humans with a satisfied smile and disappeared into the crowd.


	28. Chapter 28

Thank you, mw87, my dear beta. If there are still mistakes to be found, it's entirely my fault!

* * *

He had to get her to move sooner or later; he couldn't spend the night in the house-elves' quarters with his student using him as a life-sized teddy bear.

"What were you fleeing from before?" he asked, finally voicing a thought that had been bothering him for a while now. "You left Dumbledore's office in a reasonably good mood, but not an hour later you were ready to move out."

Hermione was reluctant to tell him, knowing that he would probably have to send her back to her dorm. She could not move into her own room until she had been officially chosen as Poppy's assistant.

When she didn't say anything, he made to push her away. "So much for trust," he muttered.

"I do trust you," she promised, slowly but sincerely. "It's just that I know that in this situation, you probably won't be able to act as my bonded, but as a teacher," she said, clarifying her reluctance.

She then proceeded to tell him of everything that had led to her unplanned move out of Gryffindor Tower. Once she started talking, she couldn't stop. She told him not only about the recent events with her roommates, but also of many other similar episodes that had happened over the years.

Frustrated tears ran down her face as she recalled the nasty behaviour she had to put up with. She was sick of feeling so downtrodden and sad all the time.

"Why not tell Minerva, I mean, your Head of House?" he asked, handing the sniffling girl a tissue, even though his robe had already borne the brunt of her tears and snot.

"I told you; I hate being a tattle-tale," she said in a thick voice. "And you can imagine what she would have said: 'You are not children anymore. I expect you to behave like mature young adults. Fifteen points, ladies, now work it out.'"

"Minerva is quite fond of you, silly girl," he said, making the scolding sound positively adoring. Realistically, he couldn't prove her wrong about McGonagall's possible reaction. "So you preferred to put up with their bullying, and pull the occasional prank, which resulted in even meaner attacks from them," he summarised.

She nodded and leaned back against him, trying to put her forehead on his chest.

He didn't stop her, but kept his arms out of the way so that he couldn't cradle her against him. He remembered vividly how it had felt when he had tangled his fingers in her hair in Albus' office. He didn't think he could let go of her if he held her now.

Instead, he kept one arm on the back of the sofa, the other on the armrest, as he looked down with dangerously growing fondness for the snivelling female clinging to his robes as if her life depended on .

He wondered if he wasn't endangering her by associating with her while the Dark Lord was still alive. He clearly was starting to like the closeness that the spell had brought about between him and this extraordinary young woman, but was it right to selfishly allow her to use him as an anchor? Should he have waited? Only acknowledged their bond when there were no dangers around them?

He was quite determined not to see the sunrise after the Final Battle that seemed to shine at the horizon, and he felt a pang in his chest at the mere thought of missing out on the effects that the spell had brought him.

It was probably safer for her to keep away from him; it would have been the nobler route to keep her at a distance. But, then again, she wouldn't have been able to find solace in him had he done so.

He had always been a selfish man. He couldn't push her away. The bond was irreversible, so there wasn't much point in discussing the what ifs. Putting this short mental discussion from his mind, he concentrated on the here and now.

"You know that I can't let you sleep at Poppy's until you have passed your N.E.W.T's. I'm afraid you will have to go back," he said, hearing her defeated sigh, and echoing it with one of his own.

"They'll attack me as soon as I set foot in the room again, or have you forgotten that I charmed their hair off?" she reminded him.

He smirked again, just as he had done when she had first confessed her deed. He had not taken a single point from Gryffindor; he was too amused by her payback. Besides, it wasn't Hermione who needed to learn a lesson on unseemly behaviour, but the two witches that had tormented her for years.

He knew what it was like to live with the constant threat of being bullied, so he didn't begrudge her the momentary win.

"Come on, I'll escort you back to your room," he said, waiting patiently for her to end their closeness, as he was loathe to do it himself.

As they walked back out, Hermione studied the exit and entry to this wonderful room. She had permission to return and probably would do so sooner rather than later.

The journey back to her dorm was quiet as she walked next to the once-more-scowling professor who Levitated her trunk. He wasn't scowling at her or because of her, she knew, and she wished she could slip her hand in his.

He wasn't a father figure to her, but more like a friend or big brother who would protect her against all the nasty children that dared to pull her pigtails…

She smothered a giggle at that mental image.

On hearing her, he looked at her with a raised brow – she had evidently been less successful in keeping quiet than she thought – and shook his head with an aggrieved sigh when she only snorted.

Hermione began to slow down the closer they got to Gryffindor tower, dreading the return.

Severus noticed and tried to shorten his long strides, not wanting to push her too much. But when even an arthritic old cat could have outrun her, he took her by the wrist and pulled her along. She looked miserable, but didn't complain, choosing instead to shoot pleading glances that made him want to let her live in his spare room.

"Don't show your fear," he admonished sternly. "You're the better witch, remember that."

She took some comfort from his unusual version of a pep-talk, and stiffened her spine. He approved with a short nod.

As soon as they stood in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, her posture slumped spectacularly, causing Severus to roll his eyes.

"You're supposed to be a Gryffindor, all bigoted superiority that you hide behind your brash braveness and thoughtlessly forge ahead," he said supportively.

Hermione looked at him as if he'd declared his love for tulips to all and sundry.

"I feel sorry for the woman who has to suffer from your well-meant compliments," she retorted sardonically.

He bared his teeth at her menacingly, not liking being made fun of.

"Oh, I hurt you!" she exclaimed, touching her chest in surprise. "I was only teasing, honestly. But your idea of toughening me up leaves a bit to be desired. You have to admit it was more of an insult that anything else." She rubbed her slightly aching chest, hoping he would understand that she hadn't meant to hurt him deliberately.

Although the pain actually went away fairly quickly, she remembered something and frowned up at him. "I thought the spell was supposed to find the person that would not hurt you," she said quietly, not wanting to be overheard.

"I believe the book merely said, 'endeavour not to hurt'," he replied, avoiding her eyes, still a bit miffed by her words. "Your room awaits," he said, his voice harder than he had intended.

"Don't punish me for what I said," she pleaded softly. "We will have to get used to our different ways of talking, I believe. I often sound bossy and domineering, and you tend to sound mocking and arrogant…" She trailed off when he raised a grumpy brow.

He sighed and pinched his nose. "Quite right." He looked into her doe eyes, and knew she hadn't meant to hurt him. "Let's go." He couldn't stand here in the corridor and discuss this further.

"What do you mean? Are you coming in, too?"

In answer, he quickly Disillusioned himself, and winked in a conspiratorial fashion, knowing that she could still see him.

Hermione looked doubtful but let herself be pushed through the door.

She stood forlornly in the room, which was still full of students. Her trunk landed next to her and she was surprised that no one noticed that it hadn't been her that was moving it. Did they all think she could do wandless magic, or had they simply not noticed?

She spotted Ginny on the couch and made to go over to her when Ron walked up to her instead.

He planted himself directly in her path and looked at her scornfully. "Twenty points, Hermione, for hexing your roommates," he declared, shifting uncomfortably on the spot.

Hermione had expected some point loss, but not from him.

"Do you have any idea what they have done to deserve this? Or have they made it look like they were completely innocent and I'm stark raving mad?" she demanded, horribly sick of his denseness.

"Why would they lie?" he asked challengingly.

"Maybe because they have hated me since day one?" she retorted with sarcasm.

"I don't care," Ron began haughtily. "You aren't injured or show any signs of a hex, but those two are bald. I think it's only fair to remove points. It is my duty to punish those that don't follow the rules."

"Since when do you care for rules, Ron? You are either as thick as a mule, or just enjoy cutting me down to size for not wanting to frolic naked with you in the broom shed," Hermione said coldly.

Giggles met her words, and for once they didn't seem to be aimed at her.

"Or it must simply be some sort of deranged loyalty to the girl who gave you your first blowjob," she added with sweet maliciousness. It wasn't a secret that Ron and Lavender had on and off dalliances.

Ron turned red and balled his hands into fists as everyone around him laughed.

"Another twenty points," he said, giving her one of the nastiest glares he seemed capable of. "You slut," he hissed quietly, but even that was overheard by most.

Hermione backhanded him without a thought. She had forgotten her professor's presence by this point, but she found that she still had other friends. Ginny gently pulled her to the side while Neville and Harry pulled Ron away.

"He's just mad he can't get into your pants," Ginny said, loudly enough for anyone to hear. She'd had enough of her brother's stunts, and wanted to take him down a notch. He was quick to humiliate Hermione in public, now he would find out how it felt.

"Who would want to touch that sullied piece of shit?" Ron shouted, his bruised ego getting the better of him, as always.

Pandemonium broke out with his words. Harry let go of his friend, not wanting to have anything to do with him anymore. Neville, though, quickly got over his shock and rammed his knee into the redhead's stomach.

Lavender, who had wrapped a silk scarf around her hairless scalp, came bouncing down the stairs and threw herself at a shocked Hermione. Ginny was knocked to the floor in the process.

Sixth-year prefect Rosalie Redwood also threw herself into the mess, trying to sort out the conflict. Just when she was about to use her wand to end the squabble, someone did it for her.

"ENOUGH!" an enraged voice bellowed with enough force to be heard above the ruckus.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at the source. Most students drew back in fear at the sight of a livid looking Professor Snape, clutching his wand in a quivering grip.

No one knew where he had come from, but there was no disputing that he had suddenly appeared with his wand pointing at a frightened Ron, looking scarier than during any Potions class.

"You, Weasley, go and get Professor McGonagall. Tell her exactly what just happened. I'll make sure you will lose your Prefect badge, boy!"

"Why? It's all her fault," Ron said hatefully, pointing at Hermione who was still on the floor.

"I'd advise you to shut your mouth before I do it for you," Snape growled dangerously. "Now get moving!"

He didn't spare the boy another glance as he moved past him, already concentrating on the next problem.

"Get off Miss Granger, girl," he said to Lavender who still sat on the cowering Hermione. It wasn't lost on anyone that Snape had not even used a perfunctory 'Miss Brown' when he had addressed the bald young woman.

Lavender did so, but used the chance to land one more kick on Hermione's ribs. "Oops," she said with mock regret, but lost her superior expression when she flew backwards a few metres, only to end up pinned up against a wall.

No one even attempted to help her. Harry raised a wand, but before Snape could reprimand him for defying his teacher, he had put a Silencing Charm on the screeching girl.

Rosalie was the first to move and try to help Hermione up, but she mewled in fear when the younger girl touched her. "It's okay, Hermione, come on, let's get you up."

Snape hated to see her so weak and vulnerable, and did his damndest to stop himself from seriously harming Lavender Brown, who struggled against her invisible bonds.

"Potter, Longbottom, Miss Weasley, Miss Redwood, you will stay. Everyone else out!" Reluctantly, the rest of Gryffindor house walked up the stairs to their dormitories.

Rosalie was still kneeling next to Hermione, carefully stroking the bushy hair. "Your nose is bleeding, let's have a look at this," she said, suddenly rearing back when Snape made an urgent step towards her.

He stopped abruptly, not wanting to accidentally make their bond too obvious, even though he had made his first mistake by stepping closer. He was saved from himself, and the wish to gather Hermione into his arms, when the portrait hole opened to admit the Weasley boy and the Head of Gryffindor House.

"What happened?" Minerva asked when she saw Hermione huddled on the floor, and a frantic and silenced Miss Brown stuck to the wall.

"What has Weasley told you?" Severus asked with narrowed eyes.

"That Hermione started an argument that got out of hand," Minerva said, shrieking when Severus bounded up to a frightened Ron who tried to hide behind his Transfiguration professor.

He lunged, trying to get the boy, but was halted by Minerva yanking on his arm.

"Severus, you are a teacher, behave as one. Now someone please tell me what happened." She straightened her hat, which had threatened to fall off her head as she restrained her colleague. "And someone let Miss Brown off the wall. Severus, I believe I recognise your handiwork?"

With a sneer, Severus ended the spell that kept Lavender attached to the wall, not caring where and how she fell. Through his haze of unbridled fury, he heard Minerva's voice again.

"You should check on Miss Granger, Severus, while I try and sort this out. Bring her to the infirmary, I will talk to you in a bit," she said gently.

Not caring about his audience any longer, he crouched down next to Hermione, who still hadn't made a move to get up. He hardly noticed that Miss Redwood still hovered nearby, his eyes and mind on nothing but Hermione.

"Shhh, it's over," he said softly, trailing a careful finger through her hair. "Come now, look at me." When he touched her temple, she shuddered, but didn't jerk away. "That's it, you're safe, now look at me," he ordered gently.

The room was silent and everyone watched the usually menacing teacher approached the scared girl with more tenderness than they had thought him capable of.

Minerva was touched to see him so concerned, and was glad that Hermione could rely on him to care for her. He seemed to make a better friend that young Mr. Weasley did. It disappointed her tremendously that a Slytherin, who was known and hated for his coldness and harshness, was more capable of showing care and respect than her Gryffindors.

She hadn't seen this side of Severus Snape since he'd been enamoured of Lily Evans, and not even then had he been so obvious. Minerva was heartened, and felt some of her doubt about the odd friendship between him and Hermione fall away.

"Everything is okay now. Look at me," Severus said quietly, his voice faintly hypnotic. Finally, Hermione slowly uncurled from her foetal position, her fingers tentatively searching for his to pull them towards her chest.

That was probably too much in present company, and Snape took his hand away before she could reach it to push it under her back, while the other went under her knees.

She jerked weakly, but didn't complain when he struggled to his feet with her in his arms.

"That was a bad idea," she murmured into his chest, taking a fistful of the coarse material of his robes when she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"What? Carrying you? You might be right, my back hurts already," he replied, deliberately misunderstanding her. Seeing a tiny smile on her pale and blood-covered lips, they stepped out of the silent Gryffindor common room without looking back.

She didn't correct him, quite aware that he knew what she meant. "I feel like a puffer fish."

Her right eye was indeed swollen, and so was her broken and bloody nose.

He squeezed her gently as he walked down the corridor, pressing a close-mouthed kiss to her sweaty forehead. She wriggled uncomfortably with a pained grimace, but before he could think she was adverse to his untrained show of affection, she spoke.

"I think I might have cracked a rib."

Severus growled deeply. "Loss of hair will be the least of Brown's worries when I'm through with her."

He scoffed in pleased disbelief when Hermione deemed it necessary to gently caress his cheek to soothe _him_, to calm his temper. She was the injured one, yet she still took the time to care for him.

He hardly watched where he was going, as he couldn't take his eyes off the remarkable young woman in his arms. He hadn't known that there could be people with such selfless compassion in this realm, and he had never dared to hope that one of them might actually care for him.

Severus had to concentrate with all his might on his hatred of all those that dared to harm her, to stop the happy tears from falling.


	29. Chapter 29

AN: A sincere thanks to mw87, my lovely beta.

* * *

"Poppy!" The Potions master's voice rang clear through the infirmary. To his dismay, it wasn't empty; two young Hufflepuffs looked at him with growing alarm from the beds they sat on.

Poppy gave Severus a stern glance, and was about to remind him that this was a place of quiet when she spotted Hermione in his arms.

"Bring her here," she told him, pointing at the first bed in the window row, which had turned into Hermione's favourite. "Is it life-threatening?" she asked, her attention back on the two young boys.

"Well…" Severus began, but Hermione overrode him with a faintly amused, "No."

Poppy trusted the girl's words, pouring some potion down the young students' throats and giving them a last check-up before she allowed them to leave. She then pulled the curtains around Hermione's bed, and set to work. "What happened?" she asked Snape, who was standing uselessly to the side.

"A little altercation in the lion's den," he replied shortly, earning himself an annoyed huff from the nurse. "Make me talk about it, and I'll likely need to smash your infirmary," he growled at her inquisitive expression.

"That bad, eh?" she asked, but refrained from further inquiry, concentrating on scanning her patient. "One cracked rib, a broken nose, a bruised eye, and small bruises on your upper body. Looks as if you've been in a fist fight."

"Something like it," Hermione said wryly.

"Except for the fact that you didn't fight back," Snape threw in.

"I was painfully reminded of my lovely time in France. All I could do was try not to wet my pants in fear," Hermione shot back, her breathing agitated.

"I wasn't blaming you," Snape said warily, pinching the bridge of his nose as a headache began to form. He hated hearing of her week in captivity; it pained him just as much as any recent injury. "Blasted compassion," he mumbled half-heartedly to himself, glad that the ladies didn't ask him to repeat himself.

Poppy excused herself to get some potions and ointments. She returned to hear Hermione say, "Why don't you go to bed? You look tired."

"No, I will wait here for Minerva. She promised to tell me what she had decided to do with Weasley. I hope it involves expulsion," Severus said savagely.

"He needs every day of education he is offered," Hermione countered, amused but touched by Snape's wish for revenge.

"The prat had six years to reach a modicum of maturity, and so far I cannot see any emotional growth. He is just as immature and thick-headed as his eleven-year-old self. The only thing that has changed is his hormone-driven wish to mate with everything that has two supple…"

He broke off when he became aware of who he was talking to. Poppy was smirking at his sudden unease, and Hermione looked queasy. Was she uncomfortable with hearing him talk about sexual things? She probably just saw an asexual teacher in him, just like everyone else.

Hermione must have noticed his look, though, and interpreted it with far more ease than should be possible. "Don't worry, I'm old enough to withstand sex-talk from teachers. My hopes of pretending that you were all nuns and priests were dashed when I saw Hagrid smooch Madame Maxime."

She gulped heavily, obviously not quite as at ease when talking about the subject as she pretended to be.

"The thought of Ron's libido is simply frightening," she added, fiddling with her jumper.

She looked at Poppy when she was offered a few potions and drank obediently, shuddering at the ghastly taste. Her pain lessened, and she could breathe easier as her rib fixed itself. The matron was just about to set her broken nose straight when the door to the infirmary opened.

"Severus, are you here?" Minerva's voice called.

"Yes, now tell me that Weasley has been thrown out on his freckled arse, or that he has detention for the next several months."

Instead of answering, Minerva stepped round the half-closed curtain, Ronald Weasley at her side. He had obviously been hexed, judging by his horribly purple hair and the shimmering scales that graced his face.

"Almost an improvement," Severus muttered, and heard a soft snort from Hermione.

"What in Merlin's name happened? First Her… Miss Granger, and now Mr. Weasley." Poppy was miffed that no one ever told her what was going on.

"Later, Poppy," Minerva calmed the other woman. "I believe Mr. Weasley has something to say."

The young man in question shuffled on his feet, gulping loudly as he tried to form some words.

"I… I had no right to take points from you without hearing what you had to say," he began, while he looked at his Head of House as if looking for guidance, or a sign that he had said enough.

But Minerva looked at him sternly, despite being shorter than the young man who had shot up during the last few months. She was still an intimidating woman.

"They told me to apologise for calling you a slut," he said clumsily, and his tone made it clear that he was finished. It was obvious that it hadn't been _his_ idea to make amends.

"That's all you can do? That was pathetic." Snape stepped closer to the boy, who looked more than uncomfortable under the combined malevolent glares of the three adults.

"You called her a what?" Poppy said incredulous. "You have no right; you should have seen her injuries after…"

"Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione shouted, alarmed, hoping to stop the nurse from blurting out intimate details.

While a red-faced Poppy tried to control herself, Snape wrenched the curtains close around Hermione's bed, effectively shutting Minerva and Weasley out.

"I'm at my wit's end, Mr. Weasley," the three people around Hermione's bed heard the stern Transfiguration teacher. "Sit over there and wait for the nurse," she said tiredly, before stepping past the privacy screen.

"What is wrong with that young man? Even Percy turned out better than him. I can't explain his atrocious behaviour," she said, looking apologetically at Hermione.

Hermione just smiled weakly. "It's not your fault," she told her teacher. "Maybe it's just his out-of-control hormones…" she ventured doubtfully.

"How can you still defend him?" Severus asked what the others were thinking.

Hermione shrugged again. "I'm not defending him. I just already have enough hatred in me for the men that murdered my parents; I'm simply trying not to let others inspire the same feeling, otherwise it will eat me up."

The teachers looked at her with wonder at her maturity, or in Snape's case, disbelief, making her uncomfortable with their intense regard.

"Erm, I'd appreciate it if Poppy, erm, Madam Pomfrey, could heal my nose now," she said, hoping to avert their attention.

Minerva excused herself and went to wait outside with the other Gryffindor, while Poppy set about fixing Hermione's broken nose. Severus flinched in tandem with Hermione when it set itself straight with a disgusting crunching sound.

He had heard the same noise countless times during his life, having broken his own nose more often than he could count. Somehow, it was always the first thing to get hurt.

"You can call me Poppy," the nurse offered, while checking the newly healed nose.

Hermione grinned gratefully while Severus looked surprised. The nurse was known for her sternness, just as he was, and getting close to a student was unheard of. He had noticed Poppy's growing regard for the young woman, but allowing her to use her given name was unexpected.

"I must have been your most valued patient during my school days, and all you ever offered me was a whitening paste for my teeth," he grumbled.

Poppy rolled her eyes. "Most _frequent_ patient, yes," she corrected with a teasing glint in her eyes, "but valued…?" She left the rest of the sentence unsaid and patted a scowling Snape on the shoulder, her soft laugh making it clear that she was joking.

"But you've been allowed to call me Poppy since you came back to teach when you were only twenty-one," she reminded him. "Hermione earned that privilege just a bit earlier than you."

"I made up for that unfairness by calling you other names," Severus informed his colleague with a mischievous glint in his eyes that made Hermione chuckle in amusement. He looked so boyish when he was teasing.

Hermione was bemused by how freely the teachers spoke around her, but she felt pleased, privileged, and cared for under their easy adult camaraderie.

Poppy was about to apply some ointment to her swollen eye when Minerva called.

"I believe Mr. Weasley might need some help, his scales are changing colour and are beginning to itch," McGonagall called, no real urgency apparent in her voice.

Poppy pinched her lips when Ron moaned pitifully, and handed the jar over to Snape.

"Might as well be useful," she said quietly to the man, not wanting Weasley to hear more than necessary.

Severus and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, until she stretched her hand out to take the cream.

"It's okay, I can do it myself," she said to him, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

His hand moved towards her slowly. He was not used to doing such intimate things for others, but then, he still felt guilty for not coming to her aid when Lavender Brown attacked her like a banshee. He had been about to hex Ronald Weasley, which had caused him to be too far away from her, leaving her unprotected.

He pushed her hand away while moving his chair closer to her bed, hoping that no one would come in unexpectedly.

Hermione opened her mouth to voice some half-hearted protest, but something in his facial expression stopped her. He didn't look annoyed or forced to do it, but simply concentrated on his upcoming task.

She got comfortable, as if waiting for a massage, and trustingly closed her eyes. She was well prepared, or so she thought, but when cream-covered fingers met her cheek, her eyes flew open as she flinched.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself once more.

Severus stayed silent, absorbing her trust, or her attempt to force her trust to override any fear. The silly girl was apologising to him again. How bizarre!

"One, two, three," he said slowly before touching her cheek, glad to see that this time, only her eyelids twitched slightly.

The ointment was cool, but quickly warmed as he spread it on her swollen skin. His entire focus was on massaging the healing balm into the affected area, while also watching her face for any change, or signs of discomfort.

She cringed slightly when he dabbed the cream too closely to her eye, but that only seemed to be due to pain, not fear.

Severus had never in his entire life touched anyone in such a fashion. Caring for his own injuries had become a habit over the years, but tending to someone else was new for him. However, he found a slow and soft rhythm instinctively, and was quite proud of himself. It felt good to care for someone. No, it felt good to care for _her._ He'd die a thousand deaths if he had to nurse Potter back to health. He couldn't even think of a single Slytherin whose skin he would be willing to rub ointment into.

Her skin was soft and smooth under his fingertips, and he dipped his fingers into the cream jar once more to continue, even though her skin was adequately covered by the first layer.

She opened her eyes when she felt his tender fingers return to her face. She knew that a second application wasn't necessary, but she kept quiet, looking into his dark eyes as he stared back at her.

"My nose," she said, and went cross-eyed when his long index finger danced over the sensitive bridge of her nose. He followed the dip between her eyebrows back to the tip of her nose, making her want to purr at the sensation. It had been too long since her body had felt something as welcome as this. It was sweet, and felt even more personal than a careful hug. She was close to tears of gratitude, and was glad when he spoke.

"Don't want to end up with a nose like me, huh?" he asked dryly.

"It'll take a few curses to end up with something like yours, I believe," she retorted in the same tone, once more able to force her tears back. "Or interesting genes," she added innocently.

"Horrid girl," he hissed, his eyes crinkling with something she hoped was amusement.

She shrieked when he put his still gooey finger in her ear, and wiped it there with relish.

"Hmm, must have slipped," he said nonchalantly, screwing the lid back on the jar as he ignored her peeved huffing and grumbling.

"Everything okay, Miss Granger?" they heard Minerva ask.

"Yes," Hermione told her frostily, "but my caregiver turned out to be more inadequate than I imagined."

Poppy couldn't contain a cackle at that statement, but sobered quickly.

"You can go, Mr. Weasley," they heard Poppy say, followed by Ron's shuffling walk as he got up to leave.

"Hermione, is Snape still with you?"

"_Professor_ Snape is still here, yes," the man answered with a disdainful tone, hearing Ron's annoyed grumble from behind the curtain.

"Why is he still here?" Ron asked Hermione, preferring to ignore the hated teacher. He felt safe enough as long as he didn't have to see the ugly visage. "It's not his job to hover over you, is it?"

Hermione made to answer, but Snape was faster again. "It is my job to protect my students, even know-it-all Gryffindors. And I can't see you following your simple job description either," he snarled.

"What job?" Ron asked, dumbfounded.

"To behave like the friend you always proclaimed you were." Snape was about to get up and pull the curtain aside, but Hermione's hand on his robe stopped him. He freed himself with a hard yank, too enraged by the boy to gently remove her fingers, but sat down again. "Get out boy, and stay away from her until you've learned what it means to support those in need."

"What do you know about it?" Ron barked, outraged. "You are the king of all things evil. You don't know what it means to be friendly or supportive, unless you are with your slimy Slytherins."

This time Hermione was too slow to hold Severus back, and he was out of reach before she swung her legs out of the bed.

The privacy curtain was ripped from its rail, as Snape pulled it to the side with unnecessary force.

"My slimy Slytherins know more about loyalty than you will ever understand, boy. They watch out for each other, like a big family. I have yet to see you take on your role as a prefect and actually look out for those in your care."

Snape was advancing continuously on a pale Ron, who twitched in fear when his retreat was stopped by another bed. He was trapped.

"All you've done is abuse your power and use it for petty payback. Now tell me which one is the better house!" Snape was close to shouting, a vein in his temple throbbing dangerously.

"Boys, boys, this is an infirmary, not a duelling platform," Poppy said loudly, as she placed herself between the men.

"If it were a duelling platform, you'd be comatose and beautifully disfigured, boy," Snape threatened.

"Severus, remember that you are a teacher," Poppy said, sounding very much like an aggravated mother. Ron got the brunt of her ire.

"Leave now, Mr. Weasley, before I turn a blind eye to Professor Snape's way of teaching you manners."

"You wouldn't…" the redhead began fearfully, but ran when he saw Snape take out his wand.

Hermione was sitting up in bed, watching Snape with an indecipherable look.

"What?" he snapped weakly, suddenly feeling silly for his outburst. Hermione had been able to keep quiet, and she was almost twenty years younger than he. Shouldn't it have been the other way round?

"Come here," she said, and held out her hand.

After a moment of hesitation, during which he made sure that Poppy and Minerva were leaving them, he walked over to her bed, but didn't take her hand.

"Closer," she said, patting the space next to her hip.

"Why?" he asked guardedly, but he was already in motion.

"You're awfully tense. I'm concerned that you might have a heart attack if you don't calm down," she said with a sardonic edge to her voice.

"I've lived with that temper for years, and haven't had any problems," he grumbled. Nevertheless, he followed her wish and sat down with his arms crossed defiantly, as if he awaited some scolding.

What Hermione had in mind had nothing to do with scolding, and she shifted closer to him with calculating eyes. "Are you feeling better now after letting off steam?" she asked kindly, keeping the friendly mockery down to a minimum.

"Not really. The boy hasn't learned anything, has he?" he asked rhetorically, not needing a confirmation.

"He'll get there, I'm… fairly sure of it." Her hand touched his lower back, making him jerk from the unfamiliar contact.

He turned his head towards her, looking a little unsure, but let her continue. "You sound as if you've lost faith in him," he remarked, feeling his eyes flutter as her fingers traced his spine up to the nape of his neck.

"Perhaps," she said softly, not wanting to think or speak of Ron at the moment. Ever so gently, she trailed her short nails over his sensitive skin, watching in pleased amusement as his shoulders hunched uncertainly, even while a pleased shudder made him tremble.

"Not… the neck," he ground out and she returned to stroke up and down his back, feeling the prominent vertebrae through his clothes.

"I won't hurt you," she promised.

"I didn't think you would," he responded sarcastically, trying to regain his unflappable persona. "I don't think I have given you reason to, or at least not recently."

She said nothing but smiled to herself. Ever so slowly, she brought her hand back up to his collar and dared to go upwards again, fingering his black locks ever so gently. He tensed at first, but gradually relaxed as nothing happened.

Hermione added two more fingers to the first and traced the smooth skin, and watched in awe and fascination, as his eyes closed of their own accord as he enjoyed her ministrations.

"Nghh," was all he was able to convey, but she was glad that he felt safe enough in her presence to let himself go, even if only to a small extent.

Her hand massaged the nape of his neck with steady and soft caresses, fingering his soft hair, and the velvety skin behind his ears. His posture slumped as his head fell forward. The feeling almost was too good to not be potion or alcohol-induced.

"I…" came past his lips and nothing more. It was hard to even form a coherent thought with this onslaught of pleasure coursing through him.

"You don't say, Minerva," Poppy's overly loud voice rang through the infirmary, causing Hermione to slowly drop her arm, running it along his spine as she did so.

She lay back down, and watched as Severus slowly gathered himself, taking a seat in the chair by the bed again. It was clear that the nurse had given them a chance to stop whatever they were doing.

"I didn't say anything," McGonagall said, perplexed, but cottoned on slowly as they came closer to the pair behind the curtain. "You don't think…" Her tone suddenly changed to prissy. "Severus Snape, what are you doing?" She yanked the curtain aside and barged up to the pair by the bed.

"Keeping watch over your student, Minnie," he said, in a sickly-sweet tone, yet his eyes were narrowed in displeasure over her apparent lack of trust in him. He kept speaking before he could lose his temper again. "Now, what about Weasley?"


	30. Chapter 30

Thank you, mw87, for her continued help. She's an amazing beta!

* * *

"He is on probation," Minerva said, her eyes still dancing between Hermione and Severus as she searched for evidence of indecent behaviour.

He growled under her scrutiny, more than displeased that the boy hadn't been thrown out of school. However, he held his tongue, already thinking up ways to make Weasley's life hell.

Minerva calmed as she saw that Severus was acting as nothing more than a teacher. "He will also receive a detention, as will Miss Brown and Miss Patil."

"Detention?" he scoffed, not pleased by how lightly they got off.

"Gryffindor lost one hundred-twenty points tonight; that should suffice," said Minerva, with a blush. She hated having to reprimand students from her own house. It was even worse having to admit it in Snape's presence, especially after seeing his satisfied expression.

"But I'm afraid Hermione will have to have detention as well. Hexing other students is a serious offence."

Severus was out of his seat like a shot. "You can't be serious," he began hotly. "She only took them to task for seven years of abuse, and she was injured tonight, or are you blind, you old…"

"She hexed them in revenge, and not in self-defence." Minerva cut across his words, not in the mood for his insults. "While I can commiserate with her, I expected better from her," she said loudly, matching Severus' tone.

Snape made a noise of disbelief, almost lost for words. Before he could gather his wits, and start a devastating retaliation to Minerva's words, Hermione interrupted him.

"Professor Snape," she said loudly, and saw him deflate like a balloon. "There's no need to get upset." She struggled to get up; her side was still a bit tender from breaking a rib. Then, she fixed her Head-of-House with a blank stare that made the older woman gulp nervously.

"I'm sure it's disappointing to see the most mature girl in this school sink to the levels of two brainless twits. It shouldn't matter that they have made her life a living hell since she came to Hogwarts. You must set an example, I understand that." Sarcasm was quickly becoming Hermione's weapon of choice to make her displeasures known.

Minerva sighed miserably. She didn't want to give Hermione detention, but the severity of the girl's action needed to be addressed.

"I don't think I need to remind you that you charmed their hair off," she said softly to Hermione, who stared back at her with expressionless eyes. "This wasn't just a harmless Tickling Charm."

"No, I remember what I did fairly well, despite the repeated blows to the head," Hermione said dryly.

Severus smirked at her words and sat down again, oddly proud that the girl could even take on her teacher when the situation called for it. He watched Minerva colour again with great satisfaction.

"Yes, well, I in no way approve of Miss Brown's behaviour, and that is why she has earned herself three weeks of detention, while you only have one." Minerva tried to soothe her student.

"Sounds very reasonable," Hermione remarked, in a steely voice that made her displeasure clear. "And I'm sure I will be reimbursed by Lavender for the spilled ink, the broken quills, and my ripped underwear that not even elf-magic can fix."

"Well…" Minerva was at a loss for words. "I… I had no idea how much damage she did. She confessed to strewing all your belongings on the floor," she said truthfully, and regretted being such a stickler for rules. However, before she could voice her regret, Hermione spoke again.

"And I'm sure you agree that it would only be fair to leave them in their hairless state for the length of the curse, seeing as I will likely feel some pain from my injuries for the same duration," the younger witch said staunchly, not giving Minerva an out.

She added, "You surely won't mind that Professor Snape oversees my detention, as well as theirs, will you? I presume you will agree that it is better for all concerned that I stay in the infirmary in the foreseeable future," she said calculatingly, feeling Snape's eyes on her. "If you'll excuse me, I need to rest. My broken rib still gives me some trouble." With a perfectly timed groan of discomfort, Hermione turned onto her side and closed her eyes, clearly done with the conversation.

Severus mentally applauded Hermione's acting and manipulating skills, and sneered at Minerva who was out of her depths.

"Y-yes, that is a good idea. I wish you a speedy recovery," she said, and left the room.

Poppy had stayed silent during the whole exchange, and was privy to a shared victorious smirk between Severus and Hermione.

"She was just doing her job," she reprimanded the scheming couple, only to be met by two angry glares.

"Their hair will be back in two days, but the memory of almost seven years of insults, pranks and hatred will always stay with me," Hermione explained. "You might not know it, but they have caused me more grief than Malfoy! I just threw their bedding out, which belongs to Hogwarts, and can be replaced within no time. They, on the other hand, were destroying my personal belongings."

Poppy nodded thoughtfully, more than surprised by the extent of her roommates' behaviour.

"I understand, dear. But don't be too hard on Minerva. It is hard for her to be faced with such villainous behaviour in her own house," Poppy told her softly, before going back to her quarters.

Hermione frowned softly and nibbled on her lower lip as she looked back at Snape, making him groan in annoyance.

"Don't get soft on me now. You have displayed such perfectly orchestrated Slytherin behaviour; please don't ruin it by feeling guilty only a minute later," he said with a dramatic sigh.

"Will it suffice if I smirk gloatingly for the next hour?" she asked with a snort.

"Just about," Severus said, sounding very put-upon as he got comfortable on the chair again.

"You really don't have to stay and watch over me," she said, realising his intent.

He couldn't quite meet her eyes when he answered. "If I hadn't been so negligent in my care earlier on, that Brown girl never would have reached you." There was no mistaking the guilt in his tone.

She soaked up his words like a seedling in search of light; his concern was heart-warming.

"It's not your job to look out for me," she said softly, giving him one of the warmest smiles she had produced since her ordeal.

"I'm sure there was a part about protecting students in my teaching contract," he demurred, not fooling her for a second.

"But I doubt there was a part about being a student's personal guard," she said kindly, knowing that it was their bond speaking, and not the dutiful teacher in him.

"Oh, but there was, somewhere in the small print," he said archly. "Now rest," he added gruffly, ending the conversation.

Hermione wasn't overly tired, but closed her eyes anyway. If he noticed that she was smiling happily for an eternity before faint snores escaped her slightly parted lips, he never said a thing. Severus watched her sleep for some time, but no matter how lovely her face, and how plump her lips, staring at an unmoving person got a tad boring after a while.

Nevertheless, he stayed for about an hour, watching the stars and the pale moon, content to be in her presence and know that she was safe. When his back complained about the hard chair, he finally got up and stepped closer to the bed.

Without thinking, his long fingers gently ghosted over the creamy skin under her chin, marvelling at its softness. With a smirk, he pushed her chin upwards, effectively closing her mouth in the faint hope of stopping the quiet snores, and the bit of drool that had gathered in the corner of her lips.

Hermione didn't wake, but mumbled incoherently for a few seconds before calming again. To Severus' amusement, her mouth refused to stay shut; he knew that she would undoubtedly be drooling again soon. But at least the snores had stopped.

He left the infirmary with silent steps and a small smile on his face. However, it fell as he remembered what the day had in store for her tomorrow – her parents' funeral.

Xxxxxxx

The next morning, Harry and Ron met at breakfast, glowering at each other as they refused to sit side by side. Ron was sandwiched between a pale-looking Lavender and Parvati, both still hairless as part of their punishment.

"Hi, love," Ginny said to her boyfriend, also avoiding her brother after last night.

"Hey," he said, not able to look at her, as he was still busy staring down Ron in a match of wills he seemed to think was vitally important for Hermione's recovery.

"Will you give it a rest?" Neville cut in, angrily waving his fork through the air to point at them in turn. "You've were an insensitive prat last night, Ron, and you know it," he said harshly, surprising a lot of people with the powerful aura that the notoriously shy boy displayed. His housemates were so used to seeing him as a clumsy fool that it still surprised them when he spoke without stuttering.

"But he hexed me," Ron snarked. "He gave me scales!"

"No, I didn't," Harry returned with a nasty grin. "Ginny gave you the scales, and Rosalie the purple hair. From me you got the webbed toes!"

"WHAT?" Ron frantically took off his shoes, and shrieked in shock when he found that he indeed had webbed toes after he peeled his socks off. Madam Pomfrey must have missed them, and he himself hadn't noticed anything amiss during his shower this morning.

"I'll pay you back for this," he shouted, his face red from humiliation and anger.

Lavender and Parvati inched away, both disgusted by the sight of Ron's feet, and not yet ready to be in the line of fire again.

"You will do no such thing, Mr. Weasley," a stern Professor McGonagall said, clearly not amused by their behaviour. "Did last night's happenings not make an impression upon you?" she asked the redhead, who only grimaced in anger. "You are not the injured party here, young man, but Miss Granger…"

Ron pushed himself up from his seat, swiping his plate and cutlery onto the floor. "Miss Granger this, Miss Granger that," he mocked his teacher, who was closer to losing her temper than he knew. "Everything is about bloody Miss Granger. She's just looking for attention," he shouted, not even caring that he had the entire school as an audience. "If it's not Harry sodding Potter, it's suddenly the Mudblood!"

After a few shocked beats of silence, Minerva could speak again. "There is something seriously wrong with you if you cannot see that it is clearly _YOU _that is looking for attention, not Miss Granger or Mr. Potter. Get out of my sight before I hex your mouth shut," Minerva hissed.

Ron cocked his head, not scared in the least. "Oh really? And face the Ministry for attacking a student?" he drawled.

The surrounding students watched the verbal match with growing interest. McGonagall was not a witch to trifle with, even the Slytherins knew that. With her eyes narrowed to slits, and a predatory smile on her thin lips full of anticipatory pleasure, she looked ready to swallow the impertinent boy without bothering to chew him.

However, Minerva got no further than, "Oh, ye…" before the headmaster thought it prudent to interrupt. No one had seen him approach, but many people were startled yet grateful for his intervention.

"Minerva, that will do. Mr. Weasley, come with me now!"

It was always decidedly odd to witness the old wizard in an angry state. No twinkle, no benign smile, no sweet in his mouth, he suddenly instilled complete and utter respect.

"No," Ron said sullenly, looking drained, but with a simmering anger right under the surface. He didn't dare look at the powerful wizard, though, during his weak attempt to stand up against the man's authority.

"You will, or you will hereby be banned from Hogwarts for the foreseeable future," Dumbledore warned sternly. "Don't think your mother will welcome you with open arms, boy."

It might have been the fear of his mother, or something else entirely, but Ron followed the Headmaster without a look back at his housemates.

xxxxxx

Harry wasn't the only one shocked by recent events; he looked just as helpless and disturbed as the rest of the students. Even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs on either side of the Gryffindor table were either stunned into silence, or muttering fiercely to themselves.

Only the Slytherins cheered loudly about the rift between the Golden Trio and the foul words spoken out against Harry and Hermione. They might not like Weasley, but they certainly appreciated that he had tried to take down his friends, or ex-friends, as it were.

Minerva bellowed her orders for them to be quiet, seeing as there was no Severus there to do it for her. Something in her expression or voice was enough to end the joyous shouts, and the Great Hall was fairly quiet again, apart from loud whispers and quickly spreading gossip.

"Mum will kill him, and I'd like to be there to watch," Ginny said, fighting tears of anger. She had never thought that her brother would be able to behave in such a fashion, and it hurt her tremendously. She didn't know the reason for Ron's revolt, but it was about to put a serious strain on the Weasley family, that she was sure of.

"I'm just glad Hermione didn't have to see or hear any of that," Neville said from beside her.

"Yeah, but there is no way she won't hear about it very soon," Harry sighed, and rubbed his forehead. What was happening to them? Their friendship had survived many obstacles before, but this time, he couldn't help but feel that things would never go back to normal.


	31. Chapter 31

As always, a sincere thanks to my beta, mw87.

* * *

Greeted by an unspectacular sunrise on Friday morning, Hermione woke feeling tired and unenthusiastic about the day ahead. She had spent the night tossing and turning in the infirmary bed she had come to see as her own, feeling saddened every time she woke to see only empty space by her bedside. Her self-proclaimed protector was missing.

Swinging her legs out of the bed, she walked to the bathroom. Her image in the mirror looked ghastly, and she wondered how long she had had those dreadful bags under her eyes, and when she her cheek bones had become so prominent. She brushed her teeth mechanically, while pondering her distinct paleness, and hardly noticed that she scrubbed them for over five minutes.

On rinsing, she noticed that the foam was mixed with blood from the prolonged harsh scrubbing, and her gums felt sore. With a sigh, she walked into the shower, careful to keep her hands away from her own body as she undressed. She also avoided looking at her body; it had been enough to see the many scars and her undesirable genitalia once. Since then, she had treated her own body like a suspicious stranger and had been unwilling to acknowledge it, especially in its naked state.

Cleaning her petite frame was always a rushed process, and she had forgotten what it meant to wash with gentle hands . Glancing down her torso had become taboo without her meaning it to; it was simply better for her not to look at the scars and her bits.

Sh eleft the shower and dried herself with a quick charm before rummaging through her trunk, which had appeared by the foot of her cot. She selected a pair of black Muggle jeans and a dark blue jumper that Nop had already fixed, grimacing in distaste when she spotted a cream-coloured coat at the bottom of her trunk – the only coat she owned.

Without a wand, she was unable to change the colour of the garment, and decided to ask Poppy to change it for her. She crept into the nurse's chambers, which were located adjacent to her office.

She knocked and waited. Only seconds later, she was greeted by the sight of a rumpled-looking witch blinking at her sleepily.

"Is something wrong, child? Are you still in pain?" Poppy asked, wrapping her dressing gown around her body to ward off the chill.

Hermione shook her head. Thankfully, the pain from her minor injuries had subsided over night.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry for waking you, but could you help me charm my clothes? I cannot appear at a funeral in a cream-coloured coat!"

"Oh," was all Poppy could say as she bid Hermione come inside. "Can I get you anything?" the older witch asked, ushering Hermione to a comfy armchair. "What time is it anyway?"

Hermione checked her watch and blushed in embarrassment. "Only a little after six. I'm sorry, I hadn't checked the time."

"Oh, hush, child." Poppy waved her off. "I'm always on duty anyway. When someone needs help, they can come to me," she assured the young woman. "Besides, Severus has been known to wake me at the most inopportune times to get at my stash of fresh-baked cookies in rare drunken states." She frowned. "I probably shouldn't have told you that."

Hermione laughed. "My lips are sealed," she promised.

"Good, or I'd probably get hit by a mysterious Stinging hex out of nowhere if he found out," Poppy whispered. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"He's done that before? Actually, I can imagine his gleeful face when he sprints off after the deed," Hermione laughed, suddenly wondering how she could feel amusement on this day. She quieted immediately.

Poppy noticed her drawing back and got back on topic.

"Let's see what to do about your clothes," she said softly, and went about charming everything black as Hermione wished. After a shared cup of coffee, Poppy watched Hermione leave, smiling sadly at the tragic picture the pale witch made in her completely black outfit. She looked rather like Severus – a sad, lonely, lost soul, seeking comfort in a black shroud of protection.

Even though the Great Hall was still empty, and she probably could have called Nop to serve her breakfast, Hermione walked in the direction of the kitchens. She wasn't in the mood for any company, however unlikely, so she passed the large double doors without a second thought and continued on her way.

However, even the kitchens were empty, which was probably normal since breakfast wouldn't be served before eight. Hermione hated to wake anybody, but her tummy grumbled insistently.

"Nop?" she whispered, half-hoping he wouldn't hear her, but he blinked into the room a few seconds later.

He looked just as sleepy as Poppy had done, and she felt sorry for disturbing everyone's rest just because she was unable to cope without a wand.

"Little Miss," he greeted, and rubbed his eyes.

"I'm sorry that I woke you. Just… just go back to sleep. I'll be fine," she stammered apologetically, making to leave. Her stomach thought it a good idea to complain about its emptiness at that very moment, making a horribly loud rumbling sound that made Nop chuckle.

"I see. So you are not wanting a little snack. No toast with honey, no muffins, no cheesecake…," he drawled devilishly.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay, well, while you're up and able to make fun of me, you can at least make me some porridge," she said snarkily.

"Porridge?" Nop asked doubtfully. "What woulds you really like?"

Hermione looked at his soft eyes that looked back at her unblinkingly and she was suddenly filled with an immense hunger for a full English breakfast. And so she ordered one, cringing immediately afterwards about her greediness and the work Nop would have to do to grant her extravagant wish.

To her surprise, Nop only took three minutes to reappear with an oversized plate of steaming food, making her mouth water with the delicious smell.

"Thank you," she sobbed, totally unprepared for the tears, but unable to stop them.

He smiled and sat down next to her for a change.

Hermione only stared at the food, overcome by memories of her parents, who had loved preparing the very same meal most weekends; it had been a favourite of the whole family.

"My mum used to make this …" she began to explain, before her throat closed as she cried bitter tears.

Nop sat silently next to her, only bringing his small hand up to touch her back when the food threatened to get cold.

"Eat now, little Miss," he said after a while.

She took the proffered fork and shovelled some baked beans between her quivering lips.

"Well, maybe you shoulds wipe the snot off your nose before it drips onto the food," Nop said and offered her one of the ridiculously soft tissues.

Hermione gave him a small glare, but was able to pull herself together.

"My mum cooked better than you," she said petulantly.

He only chuckled and pulled his rough fingers through her tresses in a gentle caress. "I'm sure she dids," he acknowledged softly.

They spent the next minutes in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, but liking the company.

When she had cleaned the plate thoroughly with the last bit of toast, the elf spoke again.

"Shall I get Master, and tell him you're ready?" he asked.

"Master? Oh, Sna… verus." She grimaced at the ridiculous name she had created by mixing the potion master's first and last names. "No, no, he's probably still asleep. And the f-funeral isn't until after lunch," she waved him off.

"He is awake, I assure you. Never sleeps longer than six, he does," Nop said, and saw her determination waver.

"But surely he has classes," she said, wishing it wasn't so.

"Not today. He has asked Headmaster to take over his classes," Nop grinned, waiting for her to finally ask to see her bonded.

"Well, he might not want to see me. I don't want to intrude…"

"He likes seeing you," Nop declared assuredly, and vanished. Not a minute later, he appeared again. "You can comes to his office," he said with a happy grin, clasping Hermione's moist palm and spinning out of sight with her.

She found herself in a dark and dimly lit room and looked around hesitatingly. She felt like an intruder. Her hand was still in Nop's long fingers, and she tugged on him like a frightened child.

"Maybe we should just go. I still don't think he will be overly happy to be accosted this early in the morning," she said, hoping that the elf would rescue her, but at that moment, a door opened and the lean form of Severus Snape entered.

"You're up early," he said by way of greeting, and stepped closer to take in her appearance.

"I'm sorry, I can leave again if you prefer," she said uncomfortably.

"Would you like anything?" he asked, ignoring her previous words.

"No, thank you, I've already had breakfast," she mumbled, feeling horribly nervous for some reason.

"What's wrong?" Snape asked, noticing her unease as he lit a few more lights to see her better.

Once the room was bathed in soft light, Hermione relaxed somewhat. "That's better. Thanks," she sighed.

In answer, Severus lit even more lights and also started the fire, hoping to make the room more comfortable. His rooms were just behind the door he just came through, but he couldn't quite bring himself to let her invade his last sanctuary just yet.

"Sit," he ordered and pushed her in the direction of the sofa in front of the already crackling fire.

Hermione almost raced there, dragging Nop with her without noticing it. Only when she saw the elf attempting to climb onto the sofa with her did she realise that she was still clasping his hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, blushing.

He just grinned and sat down next to her on a cushion, looking like a bizarre pet that was ready to relax in his favourite comfy spot. The sight of an elf simply enjoying a fire in human company was so unheard of that she turned questioning eyes to Snape. He only looked back calmly, as if used to the elf's behaviour.

Only then did she notice his attire. Black slacks, black boots and a black shirt that had obviously replaced the white one he usually wore under his frockcoat.

"Dressed for the occasion?" she blurted out, wanting to smack herself as soon as she did so.

"Yes, as I understand it, this will be a Muggle occasion," he finished tactfully. He came round the sofa and sat down at the other end.

Hermione nodded "Or are you always in mourning?" asked without censoring the thought that had popped up. Cocking her head at him thoughtfully, she really seemed to consider this to be a possible reason for his constant use of black garments.

Before he could simply scoff at her assumption, he realised that it could be a partial reason, yet he didn't want to go into such depths about his own psyche right now.

"Perhaps," he allowed. She heeded his unspoken wish to close the matter.

Nop looked at the humans at his side with a wide smile before stretching with a yawn and curling up on the cushion like a cat.

Snape looked unimpressed as he watched Hermione, who had in turn looked down at the elf.

"I've never seen an elf sleep," she breathed, trying not to rouse the resting creature. She didn't hear a response from Snape, but she didn't need one.

"What's his story?" she suddenly asked, looking surprised by herself and how long it had taken her to enquire into the mangled elf's history. "As he's a Snape elf, he must have come from your father, right?"

"You are asking about my family history," Snape remarked, making her look contrite. Before she could apologise, he continued.

"He is actually a Prince elf, from my mother's side of the family. My father was a Muggle and therefore didn't own elves or anything else magical. Nop belonged to my maternal grandfather, who was as cruel to his elves as he was to his human relatives."

He stopped there, wondering why he was telling her this, and asking himself why he still wanted to continue with this rather private topic.

"She's your bonded. No secrets," Nop mumbled in explanation, as if he could read Snape's thoughts, before snuggling deeper into his cushion.

"Oh, do shut up," Severus grumped, rolling his eyes when a thin green leg kicked him in the thigh for his rudeness.

Hermione's disbelieving snort made him turn back to her. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"You and your elf," she clarified. "Not even Dobby and Harry have such a close relationship."

He studied her for a moment before looking into the fire. As he had nothing to say in relation to her comment, he chose to continue with the story.

"He has been mine since my fourth birthday, which is somehow the only birthday I remember from my childhood until I was eight… Well, anyway, my grandfather was mad as a hatter, and had taken to stealing Muggle dogs, the bigger the better. He would hex them until they were aggressive to the point of being lethal."

He shuddered at the memory, but continued. "He asked to see me on my birthday, but forbid my mother to enter his house, since she was banned from the family for marrying a Muggle. He was curious about my magical abilities, and as soon as I entered his house, he made a horde of four huge dogs attack me in order to test me."

Here he stopped again and frowned deeply as he gazed into the flames. "Were it not for Nop, who interfered to try to protect me, I would have died that day. As it was, we were both injured quite badly – he much worse than me. To say that my grandfather was outraged at the display would be an understatement. He threw both me and Nop out, bleeding as we were. He was cruel enough to forbid his elf to heal himself before ending his service. Nop has been with me ever since, living undetected in my parents' house. My mother knew of him, of course, but was afraid to use him lest we alert my father."

That was obviously the end to the tale, and he stretched out a hand to stroke the elf's head a little.

"That's horrible," was all Hermione could say in a choked voice. She had ghastly mental pictures of a frightened little boy who looked death in the eye as massive dogs were about to maul him. "But why couldn't Nop heal himself as soon as he was free of your grandfather's service?"

Snape shrugged. "The idiosyncrasies of elfish service. Every order while in service must be obeyed forever."

"What a bastard," Hermione concluded, not seeing Snape's surprised look as she gazed down at the snoozing elf. "How badly were you hurt?" she wanted to know.

"My mother patched me up quite effectively," was all he was willing to divulge, not happy talking about his hidden physical imperfections; he had enough obvious ones already.

"Well, that practically means you were hurt pretty badly," she said tartly, but didn't press the matter.

"Do you still see your parents?" she asked, trying to get him to talk about nicer things, but misjudging in her ignorance of his family situation.

"I have no idea, and no wish to find out where my father was buried. My mother was cremated and I have her ashes at my house," he said brusquely, sending her a warning glare not to enquire further.

"So you're alone, too," was all Hermione said. She then let the matter rest, turning towards the fire and losing herself in the dancing flames.

"I've got Nop," he corrected, some time later.

She blinked at him and smiled. "And me," she said, with a charming, innocent promise that staggered him.

Why was she still willing to give so much to another person? How she hadn't ended up completely disillusioned and bitter was a wonder to him.

He honoured her offer with a nod, and for a long moment, they simply held each other's gazes, not needing words to share their thoughts and feelings.

The remaining hours before they had to leave were spent with much reading, small conversations, cuddling with their elf, who apparently loved to be stroked like a cat, and Snape's occasional check ups of his classroom, which the headmaster had taken over for the day.

"You have to rein Albus in before he teaches them nothing but sweet recipes," Severus explained. "Since the one time he ruined a few cauldrons by making butter fudge I keep an eye on him."

The closer they got to their planned departure time, the more nervous Hermione became, and even Severus had a hard time trying to at least look unaffected for her sake. He was older and more experienced with death. He would be the crutch she needed today.

"It is time," he said, and heard her book fall to the floor.

Hermione jumped to her feet and looked at him fearfully. She had been maltreating her lips for the past few hours to the point where they bled, making Severus vanish momentarily to get her a healing paste.

"Put that on," he told her, as he slipped on his Transfigured cloak, which now was a Muggle trench coat, while she rubbed the balm on her cherry-red lips.

He took the cream from her and helped her into her own coat. While it was perfectly normal for him to see so much black on one person, he hoped that she would soon put on something with a little more colour. She looked terribly weak and helpless in black garb.

He rubbed his chest, which had begun to ache in the last hour or so, and heard her apologise.

"No apologies. Not today. Understood?" he asked softly, and saw her nod. "Good. Come on, then."

She jerkily followed him out of his office, hardly noticing where she was going.

"Wait, I need to go to the toilet," she said when they passed the door to the public restroom, running into it without waiting for his answer.

She felt a little light-headed, and was glad to sit when she relieved her bladder. She also cooled her forehead afterwards as she washed her hands.

Snape took in her pale face and said nothing when she joined him again, simply setting off once more. When she stumbled on the stairs, he quickly grasped her upper arm to steady her. He was reluctant to release her and offered her his arm, inordinately proud when she accepted the help and linked her arm with his.

Together, they reached the Apparition point and realised that they were faced with a dilemma that neither one had thought about. Severus didn't know where the graveyard was, and Hermione, who knew the destination, had no wand.

Both pursed their lips in a similar fashion as they came to the same conclusion. Hermione stretched out her hand, palm up, and was glad when Severus obliged and handed her his wand. She wouldn't go so far as to call this a sign of trust; it was merely a sensible solution.

She gulped as she fingered the unfamiliar black wand, gripping it rather hesitantly. It felt surprisingly good in her hands, but something was off.

"It's not about to electrocute me when I use it, is it?" she joked half-heartedly, and saw his eyes widen in shock as he quickly snatched it back. He muttered something under his breath before handing the slim piece of wood back to her with a decidedly sheepish look.

"What would have happened?" she dared to ask, but he only shook his head. Apparently, whatever jinx he had placed on it was not to be trifled with. "But what if your life depended on someone else needing to use your wand in an emergency?"

He groaned at that. "That is more than absurd," he said, with a belittlingly raised eyebrow.

She harrumphed, but didn't argue. She concentrated on her destination and stepped closer to the wizard, blindly wrapping her free arm around his slender frame in a tight grip. She shivered when she heard his rough exhalation at her emboldened gesture.

"It's not absurd," she whispered, wanting to have the last word, and Apparated away the next second.

They found themselves in a small copse of trees, standing on top of a thick layer of reddish leaves that heralded the approaching winter. A soft, but cool, breeze caressed the thin twigs, making more leaves fall on the two still people beneath the trees.

"Shall we?" Severus asked his companion, who jerked at his words.

She nodded, but didn't move an inch, her eyes fastened on something in the distance. Severus looked in the same direction, and saw nothing but an endless sea of crosses and headstones.

He plucked a small red leaf from her hair and put it in his pocket. Before he could think about his need to keep the tiny souvenir, he pushed her gently with a hand on the small of her back to get her moving. He very much wanted to spare her the pain, but she needed the closure, he knew.


	32. Chapter 32

"Don't leave me," she pleaded, and, for a second, Severus didn't understand that she was talking to him, even though there was no one else around them.

He looked at her bewildered. "Why would I?"

She couldn't answer, and simply repeated her plea. "Just don't leave me."

He wondered if she meant the funeral, or if it was a general wish. "I won't," he said, feeling suddenly a little hot and flustered, knowing that he wasn't only speaking of today.

She nodded before she started off somewhere with purpose.

"Have you been here before?" he asked quietly, while following her lead.

She nodded again. "Yes, my parents' house is only ten minutes away."

He said nothing further, but took care to slow his usually quick strides so as not to outrun the young woman by his side. They soon neared a small building. She entered hesitantly after taking a few calming breaths.

"Miss Granger?" said a man in a black suit as soon as he heard her. At her nod, he came closer and shook her hand with a routine, but nevertheless sincere-sounding, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Eyeing Severus, the man shook the wizard's hand as well, not asking what his relationship to the young woman was, but simply gestured them both over to the open caskets at the back of the room. The coffins were simple, with only a few white unassuming flowers arranged around them. There would be no speech, no throng of mourners wanting to shake hands.

Seeing that Hermione was once more frozen to the spot, Severus took her hand and walked further into the small room with her. She mewled softly in the back of her throat, but nevertheless followed him with halting steps.

The man waited in the back of the room, and was joined by seven others who looked more like secret agents from a cheap thriller than undertakers.

As they neared the caskets, even Severus steps slowed, surprising even him. It was only the second time that he had seen the Grangers, and he was assaulted by the memories from the day he had seen the ghastly corpses in France.

His hand dropped from her back, and he found himself stepping closer to the coffins, peering into the faces of Hermione's parents. They looked so much better than they had on that day, and Severus was once again staggered by the horribly familiar face of the dead Mrs. Granger. He was incredibly relieved that her eyes were closed, hiding the same amber eyes her daughter had inherited.

However, it was obvious that this was what Hermione could look like a few years down the line, and the thought made his chest constrict. For once, the feeling wasn't caused by her distress, but his own. Severus gulped noisily and took a few steps back, focusing on his student again; she was standing between her silent parents. Looking at him in questioning, she fingered her jumper at chest height, probably feeling some pain from his distress.

Severus shook his head at her, and did his best to calm himself.

Hermione turned from him, and began to whisper softly to her parents.

He couldn't make out much besides the repeated use of "sorry", which was more than apparent. She stopped after a few minutes and moved closer to her father, holding her hand out as if trying to touch him, before changing her mind just millimetres away from his pale face.

Next, she turned to her mother, stroking the smooth wood of her mahogany coffin. When she turned back to Severus, her eyes were clear and free from tears, but oddly blank. Only then did Snape realise that there was no pain in his chest; she wasn't in much distress. He couldn't understand it, and cocked his head at her.

She looked past him, and addressed the four men at the back. "I'm done… I-I'm finished," she croaked out with a weak voice.

The funeral director nodded politely, and the black-clad men approached the caskets en masse. Hermione tried to get out of their way; her back was soon pressed against her professor, who pulled her to the side.

Four men gathered around each coffin, while one man per group closed the top with a small _clank _that sounded unbearably loud and harsh in the silent room.

Next to Severus, Hermione shuddered, and he heard her breathing accelerate. Before he had a chance to calm her, she had taken his cool hand to lead him outside. They followed the group of men, and Severus began to feel odd about the fact that he saw more undertakers than family or friends of the deceased. He knew that he fit into neither category.

He watched in fascination as the caskets were strapped into a system of strong flat ropes before being lowered steadily into the dark holes that awaited them.

He didn't know these people that were laid to rest, but he felt connected to them, mostly due to the connection he had with their daughter, and the painful resemblance the three people shared.

A moist thud announced the arrival of the wooden boxes at their final destination, and Severus was startled out of the unreal silence when his young companion began to sob her heart out. The eight men only glanced at her for a moment in concern, but turned [away?] again when Severus knelt next to the girl, who had fallen to her knees and was grabbing the soil with cramped fingers.

He felt a cramping pain in his chest that made him pinch his lips in discomfort, but he knew that only soothing her pain was important.

He had no words of comfort, and didn't think that mere words could ease her pain in any case. Instead, he put an arm around her badly shaking body, hoping the men would leave soon.

As if on cue, they all departed, leaving the young orphan to mourn in peace. Severus knew from experience that they would undoubtedly be back later with a digger to finish the job.

"They're gone. They're gone," she cried over and over again, her voice feeble and high-pitched in her pain as the realisation set in that her family would never be together again in this realm.

His eyebrows knotted together at her words, yet he remained quiet, feeling her anguish, and wanting to take it away for her.

He pretended not to notice the tears and mucus dripping from her face, and continued with his constant soft strokes along her back. When she hadn't quietened after almost ten minutes, and her sobs had turned into strangled hiccups, he lead her a few feet away.

"Shush, child," he crooned, and wasn't surprised anymore when she flung herself against him, tyring to hold on to him with weak arms. She threatened to slide to the ground a few times, and Severus hauled her back up each time, but after accidentally feeling her round bum in his hands once, he picked her up and carried her over to a nearby bench.

She stayed in his lap, finding some comfort in his warm embrace until she finally managed to stop the flow of tears. A long time later, she slipped from his legs and sat next to him, laughing a little when she noticed him massaging them; they must be bloodless after carrying her weight for so long.

"It's entirely your fault if I never regain use of them," he growled softly, wincing at the uncomfortable prickling that raced through his limbs. To his embarrassment, he felt them twitch uncontrollably. She didn't laugh, but massaged his thighs with a tiny smile.

She was probably not aware of what her actions could do to a sexually malnourished man. With flaring nostrils, he put her hands back over into her own lap before he could embarrass himself further with yet another twitching appendage.

She didn't seem to mind his refusal to let her help, and looked back at the black resting places that would house her parents' bodies for a very long time.

Severus watched her profile, and swallowed as she closed her eyes before lifting her face to the heavens.

"Why did I always take them for granted? And why do I seem to cherish them even more now that they're gone?" she asked.

He frowned for a long moment before answering. "I do not know the feeling," he admitted, trying not to feel inadequate at his admission.

"You didn't love your parents?"

"Not my father, at least."

"Your mother, then. You said you have her ashes at your home."

"She did as much as she could for me as long as her husband didn't complain. If he did, she followed his wishes. I guess my family was nothing compared to yours in regard to… love and nurturing." His voice was dry and devoid of emotion.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

He guessed that he shouldn't still be surprised by her ability to give reassurance even when she was at her lowest. Despite his ingrained distrust of others, he knew that her reaction was not fake in the least, nor used to gain anything from him. It seemed to be an innate wish to give solace to those in need, and while he didn't know how this marvellous creature had been created so perfectly, he was smart enough to be grateful for it.

Despite the depressing surroundings, he was in no rush to leave, but nor did he have anything against her sudden decision to depart. When she stood, he did the same, using his wand to cleanse his snot-smeared coat.

She grimaced when she noticed what she'd done, and turned away self-consciously. With a friendly smirk, he grasped her smooth chin and forced her to look at him. Her eyes darted everywhere but his face, and she squealed when he pointed his wand at her.

"Can't have you looking like a drowned rat with a bad hangover," he said, with mock chivalry, and removed all traces of her recent bout of crying. He could do nothing about her red-rimmed eyes without a potion, and he scolded himself for forgetting to foresee emotional outbreaks at a funeral and bring something useful.

"Making jokes at a graveyard? How macabre," she said, with a mixture of unwanted amusement and forced irritation.

_Anything to see you happy again, _he thought to himself, but kept his mouth shut. He only grinned a little.

He offered her his arm, and led her away from the graves, ready to take her back to Diagon Alley. He hoped that she would manage to choose a new wand under these circumstances, but she stopped him.

"I want to go to France."

"Excuse me?" He must have heard wrong. He hoped against hope that his hearing had been playing tricks on him.

"I want to see the house they took me to, and I want to know what happened to the men that killed my parents."

"But your wand…" He had been so glad to see her return to normal, and now she looked like a fanatic that was hell bent on learning the truth. It scared him. It would be a major setback on her long road of recovery were he to take her to France, especially so soon after laying her parents to rest.

"Can wait," she finished for him. She didn't look at him, but instead at the fresh graves and the heaps of freshly dug up earth that covered the remains of her parents in a horrible parody of a thick comforter.

She gagged and closed her eyes. A comfortingly heavy hand on her shoulder made her look up again, and the vitalising strength that shone from commiserating black eyes allowed her to form words.

"I need to see it. I need to finish this. Do you understand?" she asked, getting a bit louder. "You've taken my chance for revenge, and you… you owe me this. You owe me the knowledge of how you killed them, how you punished them. I need to put an end to this!"

Her voice broke with the emotional strain, but she resolutely stared into Snape's eyes, which had taken on a resigned expression.

It took him a long time to answer. Anyone else would have heard a flat refusal from him by now, but with Hermione, he couldn't find it in him to simply overrule her just because she was going against his plans. He hated to disappoint her, and even someone as emotionally underdeveloped as him understood that he actually cared for her.

"I will do what you ask of me," he began slowly, and could see in her eyes that she heard the 'but' in his tone before he even said it, "but not today. We have plans, and I cannot change them on such short notice."

"But…"

"No," he cut her off, feeling a twinge of pain in his guts at her disappointed face.

"Please!"

"Don't make me feel guiltier than I already do," he suddenly hissed, unable to deal with the intense regret he experienced. "Just because we're bonded, doesn't mean you can have me dancing to your every whim. You're using me." He saw her flinch; and look hurt by his words. The pain in his chest flared up and confirmed her hurt feelings.

"I'm sorry," she said miserably. "I don't mean to use you. I had just hoped you understood…"

"I do! But that doesn't mean I can do everything you're asking for. I said I would take you there, just not today," he said loudly, suddenly really angry and overwhelmed by the constant emotional roller coaster he seemed to be on.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. She was sobbing now, once more ruining her pretty face with an avalanche of tears and mucus. "Please don't think I'm using you. I only have you to rely on, and I wanted you there and I just…" A hiccupping sound interrupted her words. "I just n-need you."

He had nothing to say to that, and inhaled shakily. Seeing her rub her own chest told him that she also felt his misery.

"Forgive me?" she asked in a high-pitched voice, and stared at him with the look of someone totally lost. She couldn't make heads or tails of this weird change from what was a previously calm situation, and was horribly overwhelmed by everything.

"Don't sound so pleading," he begged harshly, hating the suddenly subservient tone.

"I'm sorry," she tried to soothe and appease him, trying helplessly to make it up to him.

"Be still now!" he barked, not caring that he was shouting in a graveyard, only metres away from her dead parents. He was also unable to deal with her at the moment, and raised his arms in a soothing way. "Just be quiet, stop apologising. Just… please, stop."

He sounded tired, and at the end of his tether, heaving a great sigh of relief when she flew at him to wrap her arms around him like a vice.

"Don't apologise anymore," he told her, letting her almost painful hug calm him.

"I can still feel your distress," she countered quietly, almost afraid to find out what was still bothering him.

"I don't like to see you… beg. I cannot stand to see you grovel before me, trying to appease me," he divulged in a pained whisper.

"I was only afraid I'd lose you," she told him.

"You won't."

"Promise?"

"I promised you before. Remember?"

"You didn't actually promise. You just said 'I won't' and nothing else. So, do you promise?"

He couldn't answer, and only produced an unhappy gulp. He very much doubted that he would ever leave her out of his own volition, but the chance of circumstances pulling him away from her was great.

"S-Severus?" she asked feebly, and looked up at him with inflamed-looking eyes when he failed to answer. It was the first time that she had used his given name, and both of them felt how right it was to say and hear it.

"I don't want to break a promise to you," he said, trying to convey that he preferred not to make one instead of breaking it.

"Promise me to try your best not to leave me?" she asked softly.

He didn't hesitate for long. "Yes," he said in a relieved rush. That he could do. He would try his best! "I promise."

She smiled happily at him, a happy sob breaking free, after which she buried her face in his cloak again.

Severus had tried so hard not to hug her back, but the relief and feeble hope of bringing her some modicum of happiness while he could were making him feel jittery with pleasure. Giving into temptation, he lifted his arms to envelop her tightly.

He did feel her soft body against his, felt her breasts pressing against him, but this was so much better than any sexual arousal. He felt connected to her in a way that he had never even dreamed of.

Trust, hope, a give and take he had never thought he even deserved, or able to experience, were all wrapped up in the small female that clung to him so fiercely. They were each other's guide, a source of stability in a world of constant disarray.

How was it possible that a person, a frail human being, could make him feel like this? How could a young woman feel that way? Like pure comfort, something akin to happiness, like warmth, like acceptance, like…

"Home," he finished his mental discussion aloud. She felt like home.

"Home?" She interrupted his epiphany. "I thought we're going to Diagon Alley?"

Her question drew a short huff of laughter from him. He looked down at her upturned face, still moist and splotchy from crying, and he was overwhelmed by his feelings for her. In this instant, he realised that he would die for her.

His face grew serious at that revelation, and he cradled her precious face with tender fingers before pressing his lips against her forehead in a long kiss. It was too long to be a fatherly kiss, but it wasn't the kiss of a lover either. Whatever it was, it was a sign of his deep affection.

"We are okay, then?" she asked calmly, blinking up at him when he finally withdrew.

He nodded solemnly.

She slowly disentangled herself from him, but kept one hand on his cloak, afraid to let go.

She looked one last time at the fresh mounds of dirt that marked her parents' graves.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

Severus looked at her sharply, not liking her continued guilt and the need to guard her family. She was only a child…

No, she was a young woman, and, as such, had the job of protecting her loved ones, yet that didn't mean that she should feel guilty.

Judging by the soft tugging on his cloak, she was finally ready to leave, but he stood his ground, coming to a sudden realisation. Hermione had no one to protect her now besides a moody Potter that liked or disliked her depending on the day and his flippant whims.

The only one strong and able enough was… himself. He felt a twinge of panic at the startling realisation that he was responsible for her. It wasn't just his job to allow her to hug him when she was in need of help; he would actively have to care for her wellbeing.

With a nod at the graves, he silently vowed to protect her as far as he was able to.

When he looked back down at her, she was studying him with narrowed eyes, but said nothing about his gesture and he was glad for it.


	33. Chapter 33

AN: Sorry for the delay. Life is horribly busy at the moment, and I haven't got much time for writing. And when I do have the time, writer's block is giving me a hard time. So updates will be slow, I'm afraid.

* * *

This time it was his turn to Apparate them away, and he forced himself to embrace her in the same fashion she had done before. Taking her arm would have sufficed, as he was practised in Apparating side-along, but he was happy to indulge their need for closeness. He was gentle when he put his left arm around the much smaller woman, and he was once more the one who exhaled in a rush when she snuggled deeper into his embrace.

It was only half one in the afternoon; they had only spent an hour and a half at the cemetery. In hindsight, it felt decidedly weird that it only took such a short time to say goodbye to your loved ones after so many years of living with them.

Diagon Alley was alive with customers, and the hustle and bustle felt simply wrong after the quiet bubble of grief they had found themselves in at the Muggle graveyard.

Severus frowned at the change of mood and pace, and turned to find the same expression mirrored on Hermione's face.

"Let's be quick about it," he suggested, and saw her nod fervently.

The sun was shining down on them, but before Hermione had a chance to soak up the comforting warmth and allow the light to lift her spirits a little, Snape pulled her onto the other side of the road. He lost his pinched look once they were in the shade, but Hermione frowned in disappointment.

"Are you afraid of a sunburn?" she asked bemused.

"The sun is giving me a headache," he retorted thruthfully, emitting that he felt horribly out of place in the sun. After watching her resigned expression for a few seconds, he led her back into the sunny half of the path, snarling when he had to squint again.

"Thank you," she said softly, squeezing his hand in gratitude.

Severus didn't react, watching her covertly as she basked in the sun that shone on her raised face. With closed eyes she allowed him to pull her along, trusting him to take care of her.

He steered her past mainly old wizards and witches who seemed to do more chatting than shopping. Almost everyone hastily moved out of the way as they saw, heard or felt him approach, ensuring them free passage.

He was as efficient and magnificent as Moses, parting the masses with an aura that was as wondrous as it was bizarre. However, when a group of young children burst apart as he stormed towards them, she reined him in.

"You're scaring them," she explained calmly, as he glowered at her restraining arm on his.

He raised an eyebrow as if to say: 'What else is new?'

She smiled, as in that moment she found him nothing short of endearing. "It might be your secret hobby to catalogue everyone's horrified reaction to your approach, but we are in no rush, right?"

He growled at her teasing tone, but acquiesced with a childish huff, only to walk extremely slowly when he moved again.

Hermione smacked her lips in annoyance and suppressed a smile, but when he began to inspect every shop window with unnecessary intensity she decided that she had enough of his game.

"You win," she said, rolling her eyes. "Storm away," she invited him with a theatrical gesture, and yelped when he pulled her along with fast steps.

"Let me know when you grow up," she mumbled under her breath as she struggled to keep up with him, and was surprised when he slowed down to a reasonable pace. She saw a satisfied smirk grace his lips when she looked up at him, but he didn't acknowledge her.

Hermione shook her head at the impossible wizard, but was glad that her overwhelming grief from earlier was sufficiently suppressed for the time being. He was good at distracting her, she thought, and he wasn't even trying, it seemed.

Hermione didn't care about shopping and didn't pay much attention to the shops they passed. Not even the ice-cream parlour made her mouth water as it used to do. It was a soft "Miaou" that drew her attention, and she noticed the magical menagerie a few feet ahead.

Thoughts of Crookshanks invaded her mind, making her stop in her tracks without noticing. Thankfully her companion noticed that she had halted.

Severus licked his lips as he watched Hermione approach the pet shop, and his heart ached a little as he took in her sad frown as she studied the animals for sale. She didn't go into the shop, merely looking through the big windows, but the yearning was clear.

He stepped closer, sneering at the over-eager puppies that vied for their attention. Predictably, Hermione smiled softly at the little pests. What really drew her attention, were the cats that snoozed in a cage.

"Seen anything you like?" he murmured.

Hermione blinked at him, visibly straightening. She grasped his cloak near his wrist and pulled him away from the shop before answering.

"The kittens were rather sweet," was all she said.

"Let me guess – the dopey ginger one drew your eye," he said sardonically.

"No, I rather liked the skinny, black one that didn't even deign to wake," she retorted teasingly.

Severus grunted, refusing to be drawn into a discussion about cats. For some reason, though, he turned and studied the price tags for the horrid little flea bags.

Before long, they reached Ollivanders and went inside. Snape simply nodded to the proprietor and sat down in a chair by the window, obviously letting Hermione handle herself.

"Erm, I need a new wand," she said, thinking that she was stating the obvious.

"What happened to your previous wand?" Ollivander asked, leaning on his counter as he gazed at Hermione's face with unblinking eyes. His eyes seemed rather creepy in their never-faltering intensity, and they made her blink excessively in return.

"I… gave it away," she said truthfully, and felt rather than saw Snape's eyes on her.

"To whom?" The old man was certainly persistent.

She didn't hesitate long. "My dead mother," she told him flatly. "It didn't work properly anymore, and it didn't… didn't feel right," she explained, wondering if there was Veritaserum in the air. She looked at Snape and saw that he was indeed gazing at her.

"Such a shame, my dear, to lose someone so dear," Ollivander said. "But not to worry, an unwilling wand is merely a sign of change and new beginnings - a development, not a setback. It is not always a bad sign. Isn't that right, young Snape?" he said, transferring his creepy stare to the man in the chair.

Severus narrowed his eyes and refused to answer. 'Young Snape'? The nerve of the old man! Severus was nearing forty; the time for being called 'young' anything was well and truly over!

Severus had changed wands once in his life, and that had been shortly after joining the Death Eaters. He couldn't help but wonder if his student was meant to go down a dark road after such a big loss. Grief and anger could easily turn into blind hatred and an unquenchable thirst for revenge…

If Hermione was offered a black wand similar to his own, he feared he would have a heart attack. Feeling queasy, he stood and approached the counter, watching the old wizard disappear into the dark recesses of his shop.

"I wasn't this scared when I came for my first wand," Hermione said quietly. Snape could hear the fear in her voice.

He opened his mouth to answer but nothing came past his lips. He could hardly admit that he was just as scared as her, could he?

The first wand Ollivander put on the counter top was just as black as the one Severus was using – made from ebony. The old man was barely bothering to hide his interest, whereas Severus felt nothing but despair and dread. The tingle that raced through Snape's weary bones was anything but pleasant. His suddenly soft knees were about to fail him, it seemed.

"No," he heard himself say with a raspy voice, and was met by puzzled amber eyes and a pair of amused silvery-blue ones. "No," he said again, pushing the box back towards the older wizard.

"You cannot stop fate, young Snape," Ollivander said and calmly pushed the box back to the bewildered girl.

"What's wrong with that wand?" she asked Snape, even as she let her hand hover over the unusual, slim piece of wood.

"_Mine_ is black," he told her with a low voice, and hissed through his teeth when Hermione picked it up despite his protest.

"The colour doesn't make it evil, nor does it say everything about its owner," she calmly told him, and weighed it in her hand with a concentrated mien.

Severus glanced at Ollivander, but as the old man knew everything about his wands and his history, he might as well speak in his presence.

"My first wand was walnut. I… required a new one when I… just after leaving school," he muttered, hoping that she would pick up on his meaning.

She did. "Do all of your… comrades have black wands?" she asked with a calmness that staggered him, and her tone made it clear that she knew the answer already. He shook his head. "See? There you have it," she said, wanting to end his line of reasoning.

"But a wand always represents a wizard or witch's personality and soul; it has more meaning than you think," he tried.

She put the wand away with a quiet sigh. "If you think I will be going down a path of evil, rest assured that it won't happen. You took care of things, didn't you? So there will no need for me to join your… erm, club, and you know it."

He stared at her with something akin to admiration, quite forgetting that they were in a public place and had company.

"I'm still me. Somehow. Just a bit more… reclusive, withdrawn, melancholy…" She looked at him as if waiting for something. "This isn't a bad thing." She paused and he saw her swallow. "Is it?" she asked, eyeing both men.

Ollivander was the first to answer. "You are going through a difficult time, my dear," he said, with such empathy as if he knew exactly what had happened. "It could well be that whatever wand you chose today will feel wrong in a few months time. You clearly have some support," he said, and let his eyes wonder to Snape, who barely refrained from fidgeting, "and as long as that won't change, you will get through this with most of your old personality intact."

"Most of it?" she asked, looking like a scared kitten.

"Every traumatising event will leave wounds on one's soul. How well they heal, and how little or badly they scar, is always different. With a strong anchor that will keep you steady and safe, you will heal," he said, his compassionate tone matched by his soft regard.

Hermione was heartened by his words and lowered her eyes to the wand that still lay on the counter. "I have an anchor," she mumbled to herself, and missed the intense gaze the men gave each other.

The black wand hadn't felt special, but she was quite enamoured with the look of it. She decided not to tell Snape about that particular thought.

"What other wands do you have?" she asked, and heard Snape's very audible sigh of relief.

Ollivander vanished into the back of his shop, but his amused cackle could be heard all the while as he rummaged through his enormous stacks of boxes.

He returned with another box, and reverently opened the lid. "Try this one," he suggested, seeming even more interested in her reaction than with the previous wand.

"What kind of wood is that?" the young witch asked, as she eyed the very dark brown wand that was longer and thinner than her old one.

"Try it first," Ollivander said.

Severus saw the old wizard's lips open in anticipation, and was suddenly convinced that the first wand would have been the tamer choice. However, he knew that he would look stupid if he voiced his concerns.

Hermione's hand didn't hesitate and lifted the beautiful implement from its box, humming softly to herself as she wrapped her fingers tightly around it. There was the tingle that had been missing from her old wand; the tingle she had felt when she had chosen her very first wand.

"This is it," she said, with a sigh of contentment that made goose bumps appear on Snape's forearms.

"How does it feel?" Ollivander asked his young customer, who still stared at the wand as if in a trance.

"Wonderful and warm. Strong, yet subtler than the first, and not so… blunt," she said, trying to find the words. "More mature and honed, and less impulsive." She blushed and laughed a little. "If that's even possible."

"Oh it is, my dear. They might not be quite sentient, but they are alive, just like the trees and creatures they have been made of. They often have more personality than the average wizard or witch," Ollivander said almost gleefully.

"Now what is it made of, and what is its core?" Severus interrupted the two before they could sing a hymn to the wooden stick.

"Ahh, well, this is not your average wand," Ollivander said, and the pride in his achievement was easy to discern. "For this wand, I used three different trees, you see."

"How is that possible? Every wand is only ever made of one type of tree," Hermione protested.

Ollivander gave her a look that clearly conveyed that he was the expert wand maker, not her. She ducked her head a little.

"I have not made these types of wand very often, and I have only ever sold five of the eleven I have made so far. One, I might add, went into young Snape's hand."

Hermione's eyes went big, and she would have surely searched his pockets to inspect his wand had he not drawn it before she could do so. She reverently stroked it and rolled it gently across Severus' palm as he held it.

"Ebony, hawthorn and vine," he offered, before she could ask the inevitable question.

"My previous one was made from vine," she told him and dared to pick it up after silently asking for permission with a single look. She had used it just hours before, but had been too nervous to appreciate or investigate it then.

She raised both arms in front of her chest and closed his eyes, as she tried to feel the differences in them. "Yours is somewhat heavier, but it's not really its weight but… but as if it's carrying a burden."

"You're making that up," Severus snorted dryly.

"I'm not," she said staunchly, and even Ollivander looked at him in reproach. Snape rolled his eyes, but let her continue. "It feels somewhat cooler than mine, with a hidden warmth that doesn't quite dare or manage to break free."

"Now you're just playing around," Severus grumbled, but his complaints subsided when she brought the tips of their wands together, making them emit a soft hum that only stopped when she parted them again.

"It feels troubled, I can actually feel its power twist and twirl in it, ready to gather momentum when needed."

"Don't be ridiculous," Severus interrupted her rudely, fearing that she was taking the piss, and would start laughing any minute.

"She isn't, young Snape," Ollivander interrupted. "There are those who have an affinity for wands, and not only for their own, but those of others. Often bonded couples can sense more from each others wands than is visible to the eye."

His two only customers seemed close to gaping like fishes, and he wasn't sure if it was his revelation about the talent to feel a wand's soul, or the small tidbit about bonded couples.

Hermione was the first one to gather herself. "Well, I'm not making this up," she said, and held out both wands to him. "Try it," she ordered. He would have smiled at her bossiness any other time.

He folded his arms with a sneer, and glowered at her, not even willing to try and _feel._

"Will you please, stop giving me the evil eye and try it?" she said, sounding a bit saddened by his early refusal to even give it a chance.

"They are just wands," he said, and watched with disbelief as her eyes filled with salty liquid. A second later, he felt his chest hurt. "What now?" he barked. He couldn't believe that he had hurt her with his refusal.

"Why won't you try?" she asked, holding the two wands out again hesitantly.

With a grimace at the girl, and a glower at the shop owner, who looked like a spectator at a good Quidditch match, he snatched the wands from her hands and even closed his eyes. He'd give it three seconds before declaring them both insane. Stupid mind games…

He halted mid tirade and opened his eyes in startled shock.


	34. Chapter 34

Well, I might not be the fastest writer, but at least my beloved beta, mw87, is incredibly fast with correcting my many mistakes.

* * *

Severus' awed and slightly disturbed expression made Hermione smile delightedly.

"I told you," she whispered, but her tone wasn't gloating.

Ignoring Ollivander's soft laugh, Severus closed his eyes and lowered his head as he concentrated on the feelings the two wands gave him. Without looking, he felt his own wand in his left: familiar, supportive and steadfast. That was all he could feel from his own wand.

Hers, though, felt as warm as her embraces, sweet as her breath, alluringly soft and purely feminine. He also felt what she had meant when she had called it mature and less impulsive – it was the complete opposite of what he had always called typical Gryffindor characteristics.

This was a woman's wand. Hermione had clearly left her childhood behind, and that fact saddened him a bit. The longer he concentrated, the clearer the strength her wand became. Despite the promise of power, he couldn't help but call it hesitant, and he spoke his thoughts aloud.

"Really? I didn't quite sense that," she told him, still concentrating more on his expressive face than the wands.

"We'll take it," Severus said loudly, as he came back to earth.

Hermione laughed, and Severus knew he had been acting on her behalf, for which he had no right.

"It seems to be a good wand, and you should probably take it," he amended.

She was still smiling at him and took the wand from him. "So what's its core?" she asked the shop owner.

"As it happens, the same as his," he said and nodded to Severus.

"Dragon heartstring?" Hermione wondered aloud, only knowing of the three magical cores Ollivander seemed to use, which were dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, or phoenix tail feathers.

But Snape pinched his lips and didn't answer right away, and so Ollivander took over.

"Do you feel he is the type for dragon heartstring?" the old wizard inquired, and both he and Hermione saw Snape stiffen slightly.

"Well, no offence, but you are too… you're not quite… or at least not… a little unbalanced, perhaps?" She gave up with a grimace, hoping that she hadn't hurt her bonded, but the lack of pain in her chest soothed her worries.

"Yes, yes, I gather you meant my lack of purity, my damaged soul?" Severus supplied helpfully and crossed his arms. He was secretly glad that she wasn't seeing him as a knight in shining armour, but for the dangerous creature he could be. Whatever the Heart's Keeper spell had changed between them, he was, at heart, still a miserable, cruel and often insensitive bastard.

"No, I meant your flair to the dramatic," she said sarcastically, before adding more seriously, "Your soul might be cracked, but it's far from irrevocably broken or evil!"

Her hand reached out of its own accord to caress his hand. "Anyway, the phoenix stands for power, purification, self-knowledge, which is frankly not quite you, even though you have power."

Snape nodded, clearly seeing her point and waiting for further explanations.

Ollivander was resting his chin in his hand and paying great attention to the young woman's words.

"I doubt it's the phoenix feather either. I can't imagine you hungering for immortality," she began and only saw him smirk. "And I somehow have trouble trying to imagine you in connection with rebirth, resurrection and the sun," she said frankly. However, when she noticed how quickly his smirk fled, she began to doubt her reasoning.

"Don't tell me I have misjudged you so badly," she said, and heard Ollivander chuckle.

"Don't let him play you, dear. He's not all bad, but there's nothing about him I would call sunny," the old man said, gesturing her to continue with her explanations.

"So, I thought dragon heartstring. A dragon is a symbol of power, courage, strength and strong will. They are often perceived as fearsome yet protective, and can be described as valiant defenders. They are fearless and are often said to have a hidden wisdom. A perfect mix between scary beauty with a rough exterior and an overload of elegant and impressive protective measures: fire breath, sharp fangs and claws. Even their tails are lethal."

By the time she was finished, she had an admiring smile on her face and Severus was once again reminded just what a marvel this young woman was. A quick glance at Ollivander told him that even the old wizard was impressed.

Did she really see beauty in him, or was that just part of the general description of dragons? He didn't dare ask the question aloud, knowing that he would make himself vulnerable if he did.

"Well done, young Miss, and you'll be happy to hear that his first wand did indeed have a dragon's heartstring as a core, just as yours, I recall," the wizard said with pleasure.

"So if it's none of the three, what have you used?" she asked insistently, at the end of her patience.

"What do you think?" the maddening wizard countered.

Hermione huffed in annoyance, but answered readily enough. "A runespoor fang? A hippogriff talon? Ashwinder ash? A chimaera scale?"

Ollivander shook his head with a wide grin at each of her suggestions.

"Squid tentacle?" she said bad-naturedly, and heard Snape snort.

"Very powerful imagination, young one" the older wizard said amusedly. "Alas, I used hairs from the tails of Thestrals," the wand maker finally explained, leaving her gaping. "Yours I took from a female, and young Snape's from a male. Might have been a couple if I remember correctly," he added almost mischievously.

Snape huffed in annoyance. The old man forgot nothing and no one; if he said the animals might have been a couple, then they had most certainly been a couple.

Hermione was speechless for a long moment and only gazed at the wand in her hand.

"Thestral… Will it help me get over my fear of flying?" she asked dryly.

"I doubt it very much," Snape answered rather gleefully.

"How many of its kind have you made?" she asked Ollivander, and ignored her smirking companion.

"With Thestral hair? Just three," Ollivander said.

"And what about the types of wood?" she asked, looking at her wand with growing fascination.

"From the inside out it consists of vine, like your first wand. It symbolises too much of your nature to be ignored, and I'm fairly certain that every wand you will ever own will contain vine."

Hermione nodded and softly muttered: "Regeneration, continuation, development, renewal, growth…"

"Exactly, my dear. The second layer is ebony," he told his captive audience and held up a hand before Snape could voice any worries or protests. "You felt the rightness of the wand," he admonished the younger wizard.

"The outer layer is wild hazel," the grey-haired wizard explained, and jerked in shock when Snape produced a short bark of laughter that had even surprised the black-haired wizard himself by the looks of it.

Hermione and Ollivander threw questioning glances at the wizard who still tried his best not to look amused. With a soft blush on his pale cheeks Severus spoke. "The… unusual branch formations reminded me of your hair," he gestured at Hermione's head, before clearing his throat.

"Unusual, eh?" Hermione repeated with a dubiously raised eyebrow. She had not missed the short pause before the word and wondered what he had wanted to say in the first place. Probably weird or crazy. He wouldn't be the first to voice that opinion on the genetic malfunction that was her hair.

"It is said to be a container for ancient knowledge," Ollivander went on. "It stands for creativity, purity and honesty."

"Purity?" she asked, doubtful.

"Certainly! You are anything but impure," Ollivander assured her with an almost stern mien. "I very much doubt that there is anything that could take away your innate pureness and the goodness of your heart." He waited for a teary-eyed Hermione to nod softly before coming back to business. "So, do you wish to purchase the wand?"

"Oh, erm, yes, but I just realised that I didn't bring any money. Could you keep it until I come again tomorrow?" She sniffed softly and discreetly wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

Snape stepped forward with an aggrieved sigh. He could imagine how hard it must be to leave a new wand behind, after establishing the connection with it.

"How much do you want for it?" he asked the proprietor.

"Exactly as much as yours cost," Ollivander replied, suddenly sounding more like a business man than a man who knew the secrets of wandlore.

Snape sneered, while fishing out ten galleons, and smirked at Hermione's gasp.

"You can't pay that!" his young companion said. Despite her protests, her eyes darted longingly to the new wand.

"As you see, I already have. Now take your wand before the old madman decides to up the price," Severus said to the gobsmacked girl. It felt shockingly good to allow her to have her wand right now. It had never felt so good to buy someone something they desired.

"Before you leave, could I see both your wands again?" Ollivander asked, with a glint in his eyes.

"Of course," Hermione said and handed her new treasure over, whereas Severus' paranoia forbid him to just hand over his only weapon.

"Call it a free wand service," Ollivander told him.

"I don't care what you call it, I want to know what you have in mind," Severus snarked.

"It really is just an extra service. Since when do you not trust me?"

With bad grace, Severus handed his wand over, knowing that the old man was a close acquaintance of Dumbledore's and was to be trusted. He had never failed to help Albus in a tight spot, even if he refused to take sides in this war.

Ollivander retrieved a long thin glass container from underneath his counter and pulled the cork that closed it. One by one he dipped the two wands into the substance, making them drip with some unknown fluid.

"Essence of ivy," he explained before Severus could ask. Then he muttered a spell and the wands dried instantly, leaving them shining as if waxed.

"What good did that do?" the Potions master wanted to know as he picked up his shiny wand and handed Hermione hers. His lips twitched in amusement as he felt her take it from him almost urgently. Her almost childish eagerness was bewitching.

"In light of the recent development in your relationship, I thought it a good idea, as ivy represents renewal, connection, friendship and opportunity. Have a good day, my dears," he said, disappearing after a polite nod to them both.

"How does he know, about us, I mean?" Hermione asked when she got over her shock.

"He has always been a strange and mysterious man, but perhaps it is only Dumbledore who apprises him of everything," Severus suggested with a shrug. "The Headmaster can be a horrible blabbermouth at times, especially if he is on a sugar high after too many of his darn sweets."

Hermione laughed at his description of the most powerful wizard alive. "Thank you," she said with a warm smile as she clutched her new wand to her chest. "I'll pay you back soon."

"You're welcome," he said, trying not to shuffle his feet. He felt like a nervous admirer who had just bought the girl he fancied some chocolate. He didn't fancy her, he reasoned, but he… Well, he certainly… Dammit, he… liked her. Yes, that would do. That would be the sanest and safest ending to the sentence.

She was just the smartest female he had encountered in a long while, the only person who didn't reject him, the only one who actually needed him for something more meaningful than being a good soldier. She was a remarkable person, weird enough to actually care for his feelings. That he liked to study her countenance and enjoy her closeness really didn't mean anything, or at least it shouldn't do!

xxxxx

They left the shop together and walked side by side past the many shops. They could have Apparated back to Hogwarts now that the important tasks were completed, but neither proposed that option and they simply enjoyed their free time.

Severus slowed his steps out of his own volition, and let her look at everything she wanted. Her earlier disinterest had vanished. She had no interest in the Quidditch supply shop, and not even the idea of new clothes seemed to appeal to her. What she did look at were the bookshop, and they spent nearly an hour in there. They left without buying anything, but felt happy having perused a few new tomes all the same.

He saw her swerve in the direction of the pet shop once more, but before he could do so much as cringe at the thought of fluffy creatures, she shook her head and determinedly walked past it.

It was clear that she wished for another animal, but something held her back. Severus found that he didn't like that she denied herself the pleasure of acquiring a new familiar. His thoughts were interrupted by his growling stomach.

"Are you hungry?" he asked her quickly, hoping she wouldn't laugh at his bodily sounds, but she shook her head.

"Just thirsty," she told him, and followed him into a dark alley that she had never noticed before. Trusting that he knew what he was doing, she allowed him to lead the way without complaint.

Severus stayed close to her side and led her into a seedy looking pub that looked like nothing more than an abandoned building from the outside. As soon as he had steered her to a table in a dark corner, he realised his folly; this was a dirtier place than the Hog's Head, and the clientele was probably not the right company for a young woman like her.

"We should go somewhere else," he said, and made to get up again, but she pulled on his cloak which he had transfigured back from the Muggle trench coat earlier.

"Unless you could get into trouble for being seen here with me, we might as well stay. My feet ache and I really am thirsty," she said, hoping they could just stay – but maybe not for longer than strictly necessary. With him nearby, she often felt invincible. However, the longer she sat there studying her surroundings, the more her unease grew. The dark and unfriendly atmosphere was starting to get at her. It didn't help that even her companion seemed to adjust to the dark feel, and was looking darker and more unapproachable with every passing minute.

There was no daylight coming through what were most likely charmed windows. Why they hadn't just built a thick brick wall there was beyond her. The few candles that were stationed around the pub were giving off an eerie light that made everything they illuminated flicker oddly, distorting every face and every movement.

There was no joyous chatter. No raucous males that tried to impress their cohorts with their wittiness, and not a single sound of laughter. It was depressingly silent, with nothing but hushed whispers and shifty eyes that roamed over the newcomers.

A tall and bulky man limped past Hermione, brushing her back with his cloak and making her shiver with unease. She squirmed in her seat, and fought the urge to gag on the wave of sweat that followed the hooded stranger.

A seemingly oblivious Severus changed positions and accidentally hit her knees with his knobbly ones. Hermione twitched slightly and concentrated hard on the menu.

"Nothing without alcohol in it," she summarised wryly, and saw Snape frown.

"Never mind, I'm perfectly fine with some ale."

"We are not here on a day out," he hissed. "We were supposed to bury your parents and then return to Hogwarts." As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them, and the slight twinge in his chest doubled his regret.

"I'm sorry," he forced past his lips, wondering instantly when he had last used those two words. They almost felt like a different language, so unfamiliar were they on his tongue.

She nodded, but didn't look at him. They sat in uncomfortable silence, during which Hermione gradually became unnerved by the dark and dangerous ambience, when a scarred wizard approached them.

"Hey, Snape, the usual?"

"Yes, and an ale for the girl," Snape said, falling back to his villainous voice and facial expression with ease as he greeted the man.

Hermione eyed him with dismay, and something else he couldn't decipher. "Is that your evil persona?" she asked, with a nervous smile that quickly turned into a grimace.

Severus sneered at her, baring his teeth slightly, telling her how little he thought of that question.

"It would look somewhat odd to hear the known Death Eater order a white wine spritzer for his 'lady' and ask her politely if she would like broccoli cream soup for starters." His tone had none of the usual casual friendliness he used when he was around her.

"Ah, I see," she said, her voice and face suddenly devoid of any discernable emotion. Her fingers were clutching the edge of the table.

It unnerved Severus greatly not to be able to decipher the usually more open face of the girl. She was often as easy to read as a book.

"What?" he said sotto voce when she didn't stop looking at him with that weird look.

"I just noticed how little I know about you," she said, sounding as if she was somehow distancing herself from him, which she really was. She knew that he was part of the Order, and had even seen him at Headquarters on a few occasions. She also knew about his Death Eater and spy status as a result, she even knew that he had joined Voldemort's ranks freely when he was younger, but only now did she see the predator he could be.

With the evil glare that was somehow even more malevolent than what he aimed at his students on a daily basis, and the way he seemed to fit right into this questionable environment, he made the hairs on her neck stand up.

The man had been nothing but nice to her since the spell he'd used to rescue her, and she had forgotten what he was and what he was capable of. He must have tortured, and probably murdered and done other things she didn't even want to put in words.

He cocked his head, and leaned over the table which she countered by leaning back. With a frown, he did the same to give her some space. His hurt feelings manifested themselves in chest pains for her, he noticed, as she clutched her chest for a moment with discomfort.

"You know more than most. Not even Albus had such an insight to my life and feeli… thoughts as you," he said, correcting himself mid-sentence.

The waiter returned and served Snape's drink first, a whisky by the looks of it, before putting down a glass in front of Hermione with a suggestive smirk.

"Here, my sweet," he said in a sickly voice, running his fingers briefly across her cheek.

Hermione didn't know if she was more disgusted by the touch itself, or the grimy nails he had.

"Hands off, Malcolm," Severus hissed, out of his seat in an instant. "She's not here for entertainment," he pressed out from between furiously clenched lips. He was not looking at Hermione.

"You're not sharing this one?" Malcolm asked, unperturbed.

"She is not for anyone's entertainment!" Severus spat, his furious eyes following the waiter's back as the man finally left.

"What did you mean by 'entertainment'?" Hermione asked shakily, before it clicked.

Severus knew when she came to the right conclusion, and was alarmed when she rushed from the table and out of the pub.

He followed her swiftly, reaching for her arm when he caught up with her on the road.

"Don't touch me," she pleaded in a high-pitched voice. She didn't sound disgusted or angry, but scared. _Which isn't necessarily better_, he thought.

He acquiesced with raised hands, signalling to her that he meant no harm. His chest ached only slightly, and he wondered what was going through her head.

"I would never allow anyone to… to… ravish you," he rasped out painfully. "And I have no plans to… do so either."

She made a step to the side, putting more space between them as they hurried down the street.

"I am not interested in your s-s-sex-life," she began. "And I am quite aware that I'm no one's taste, unless I am the only thing on offer." Her voice was bitter. "It just occurred to me how shamelessly I have been… clinging to you since that darn spell. Besides the fact that this can't be normal when I avoid all others, I have just been reminded that you are just as… male as everyone else."

Her thoughts and words were a mess, but despite her sudden fear, she could not tell him that she had just thought about all the villainous things he must have done at one stage.

He frowned in utter bewilderment. "You have just realised that I'm a man, too, with all the bits that you have come to fear and hate?" he asked, trying to suss her out.

She nodded with a whimper.

"I'd never hurt you…"

"Because of a ritual," she cried and whirled to face him. "Without it you'd still hate me, like you've always done! This isn't real. It's like a love potion, isn't it?"

"No!" he said in a low voice that was full of denial. "No, it doesn't create feelings that couldn't be there. It allows you to find your Heart's Keeper, not connect you randomly with the person you have been trying to locate." He was speaking hastily, hoping to convince her right there and then, fearing that he'd lose her if she were to Apparate now.

"It never would have worked with Potter, for example," he continued. "I would have found him, sure, but that would have been the end of it."

Beseechingly, he stepped closer and saw her flinch, which turned his previous concern into the more familiar anger. He had never been a very patient man.

"You know I could not hurt you. What do you want me to do? Cut of my bits, mutilate myself to look less manly?" he asked harshly. "Well, let me tell you…"

He stopped immediately when her eyes tripled in size at his words and he knew he had said something wrong.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, and pulled her new wand from her pocket. She was gone the next second.

"FUCK!" he shouted, uncaring of the audience they had attracted, and tried to follow her magical signature before it was too late. Finding the invisible thread, he anchored it to his wand and Apparated after her, wondering how things had gone downhill so quickly.


	35. Chapter 35

At first, he saw nothing but the castle when he landed just a few short seconds later, but then he spotted a bushy-haired someone running up the hill to the school.

"Wait," he shouted and saw her turn and fall in the process. He stormed after her, looking more deranged than he was aware of, as he neared her with a frantic run and a foreboding expression on his face.

"Don't hurt me," she wailed in a weak voice, all the while trying to scramble away from him.

He stopped instantly, realising the state she was in.

"How could you think…?" he began, and trailed off with a headshake. She didn't trust him, after all, and the thought stung him badly. He hardened himself against the obvious end to whatever friendship they had built. "If there is indeed no trust between us, then this spell clearly hasn't bound us. We must have been mistaken," he said, his voice as dead and flat at his eyes.

"No, don't say that," she croaked unhappily, but he ignored her protest.

Without delay he turned, walking away from the castle, and away from her, heading towards the Forbidden Forest. The further he got, the more his eyes stung and he soon broke out into a run.

Why did things always end badly for him? Couldn't fate give him one reprieve? He had done everything in his power to work towards the Dark Lord's fall since the snake had returned, and he was enduring unspeakable things during his work as a spy. Just once, only once, he had started to believe that life had something in store for him that could bring him happiness.

He cursed his own thrice damned existence, voicing his anger and disappointment with a loud growl that turned into a shout. It wasn't often that he allowed his feelings to run wild, but he wasn't able to simply scowl and return to business as usual.

Hermione sat stunned on the lawn and watched him storm away, hearing his pained cry. With no little fear she saw him aim his wand at the Forest, hurtling a spell towards it from a hundred yards away. Bright red light raced the long way with an unbridled fury and never dwindling force, hitting an ancient tree and felling it as if it were a twig.

The resulting noise was deafening, and could surely be heard by everyone in the castle.

"I'm sorry," she whispered miserably, and watched him disappear.

The only thing still connecting them was a painful and constricting tightness in their chests.

Xxxxx

Hermione had no idea how long she sat there, and jerked in surprise when a calm voice spoke to her.

"Would you like to come in, my dear?" the unmistakable voice of Dumbledore said from beside her.

"Not really," she croaked and he sighed at the broken look she gave him.

"What happened?" he asked, slowly and carefully manoeuvring his aged bones so that he could sit next to her.

What was she to say? _I buried my parents – my only relatives and my whole family, I got a new wand that threw me for a loop with its unusual design, and I feel positively wretched after hurting the person who is closest to me. This was just a peachy day!_

Hermione couldn't quite voice either of those events, but the latter was bearing down on her. She stared back to the spot where she had last seen Snape, warring with herself about whether or not to speak about what was eating her up.

"I hurt him," she confessed, feeling like the lowest being on earth for it. She felt even guiltier for hurting Severus than for not having been able to protect her parents, she realised and didn't know how to feel about this.

"Sometimes, confrontations are unavoidable, even among the best of friends," he told her, meaning the strained situation between her and the boys as well, and not just whatever she had with Snape.

"I was suddenly so afraid of him," she breathed. "He was looking so sinister, and even though his expression wasn't aimed at me, it reminded me of what he was capable of. He… he must have hurt people more times than he can count, and I can't help but wonder if and how he might have used his… b-body to hurt people, too."

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a second, and debated how much to say without betraying Severus' confidence. He reckoned that honesty was the only way to bring them back together; understanding each other was the key.

"If you think that he has… assaulted women, then I have to tell you that he did," he told her quietly, and heard her moan in anguish. "Only once did he do so because he wanted to…"

"Oh god," Hermione groaned and clutched her hair.

"Listen, child. He was filled with so much anger and hatred in his youth, and was fed up with being bullied. Just once he wanted to be the one in charge, the one to yield the power over someone else. Afterwards , he was so disturbed by what he'd done that he asked me to remove the memory, but I refused, telling him that he needed it to learn. I don't want to excuse his actions, but his self-disgust is really punishment enough."

"So, just once then?"

Albus sighed again, and saw her grimace as realisation sank in.

"So what? Didn't he learn anything, or did he just learn not to care?"

"Neither, but he was forced on occasion to partake in such activities, "he explained . "Did you really think him so callous?" Albus asked.

"That's just the thing. I don't know anything about him. Not really. I know the general outline of his history but no details, I have no idea what is going on inside his head," she cried. "He has hated me since I first stepped into his classroom, how can that change so suddenly? I mean, from one day to the next we were hugging as if we had been friends forever!"

Albus stroked his beard thoughtfully. He could understand her concern. "I believe that the ritual was a catalyst, enlightening you to the possibilities. It wasn't using coercion or force. That, I'm sure of."

"But it was a dark spell."

"Only because of the use of blood, my dear. The spell itself was not malevolent, from what I read." He paused. "Why have you not had these concerns before today?"

She blushed and dug her shoes into the grass. "I did, but after I spoke with you I had no more questions, really. And the interesting side-effects the spell brought us only fascinated me, and it felt so right to be near him. I didn't even want to question something that gave me so much comfort," she admitted, chastising herself.

"Do you trust him? Do you trust him not to hurt you?" Albus asked after a while.

She bit her lip to the point of pain. "I want to say yes. I want to say it so badly. But the truth is, I don't know what to think anymore."

"Perhaps seeing the notes about the spell will help," he suggested mildly. "And having a… heart-to-heart," he said, with a grin at his little joke.

Hermione started. That had been her plan all along, she just forgot with all the stress she had been under.

"He is a good man, my dear. Unconventional and not easy to understand, but he is also very protective of those he cares for," Albus told her, and patted her arm before standing with loudly cracking joints. "Oh, before I forget, please be in the Great Hall for meals times from now on," he said kindly, but the order was clear.

Hermione blinked at the non-sequitur, feeling even more lost than she already was.

"Do I have to?" she asked.

"I can't watch you hide from everything for much longer, Hermione," he told her.

Hermione could hear the compassion, but that didn't make the order any easier. Not even the privilege of hearing her first name from the Headmaster made his demand any sweeter.

"Tomorrow morning?" she wheedled, hoping to be able to go to the kitchens tonight.

"Very well," he allowed.

She nodded her thanks with a hanging head, and listened to his retreating steps. The pain in her chest refused to budge, and she felt guiltier with every agonising second that passed.

XXXXX

It was a long time before she ventured inside, knowing that there was nothing waiting for her. She hid in the library without touching a single book, staring out the window for an eternity until it was too dark to see anything and Madam Pince asked her to leave.

Going back to her dormitory was out of the question, and she didn't want to go to the infirmary either, so she headed to the kitchens with heavy limbs and tired eyes.

The pain in her chest had been a steady reminder of the earlier nightmarish confrontation with Snape, and she had stopped rubbing it as it didn't bring any relief. She wondered if he was plagued by the same affliction.

The kitchen was once more filled with working elves, so she sat down quietly in a free corner, not even trying to reach the small table. She didn't call for Nop, but merely closed her eyes to listen to the sound of hundred of little, naked feet bustling around her, ignoring her rumbling tummy as the smell of food reached her nose.

"Little Miss," she heard suddenly and snapped her eyes open, realising that she had been dozing.

Nop was standing in front of her, no smile to be found on his face.

"Why does humans keep hurting each other?" he asked with brutal lack of warning, and she cringed in guilt. "I can feel that you is both upset," he told her, but there was still no anger or reprimand in his tone, only a need to understand.

"Is he back?" she dared to ask, and slumped when the elf shook his head.

When she said nothing else and didn't move from her uncomfortable position on the floor, Nop ignored his wish for information, and put his mistress' needs first.

"Is you hungry?" he asked. She nodded. He walked away and soon came back with a bowl of stew. "Come and sits here," he said, and gestured to the table, already having enlarged a chair for her.

She did so, and spooned the food into her mouth mechanically, hardly tasting anything. When she was done, Nop led her into the elves' room, taking her hand as if she were a child.

He watched as she curled up on the sofa, clutching her chest. "Please tell Poppy I'll be there soon," she mumbled and was soon asleep. Tears ran down her face steadily. Nop caressed her hair carefully, trying not to get his hands ensnared by the unruly mess before leaving her to rest.

The next time she woke, she was being shaken by someone, and opened her eyes to see a worried looking Nop standing in front of her.

"He is back, and he is not being alright. You needs to come," he pleaded and tugged at her.

Hermione didn't have to ask who he meant, and her stomach dropped at the idea of having to face the man right now. She paled, hearing her own rapid breathing.

"He doesn't want to see me," she hedged.

"Talk to him," Nop ordered.

"You are not supposed to order me around," she said, trying to delay.

"And bonded people are not supposed to hurts each other," he countered and tugged on her.

"That was never my intention. I was overwhelmed!" She gulped but finally stood, feeling the room spin as she vanished. As soon as she felt the floor under her feet again, she knew that she was in Snape's quarters and immediately checked the doors, trying to find out which one was the exit, in case she needed to flee.

"Could you please… No, I order you not to leave me here when things get ugly, do you hear me?" she hissed at Nop, who nodded and pointed at a door that was slightly ajar.

Ignoring the décor and everything else about the rooms, she tiptoed towards the door and hesitantly pushed it open. It turned out to be the bathroom, not the bedroom as she had guessed. Her breath was coming in uneven huffs by now, and she was sure that she sounded horribly loud in the silent rooms.

A few candles flickered on the walls, giving off just enough light to see. "Hello?" she asked softly, fearing that her voice would give out any second. She was horribly afraid that at any second, he would step out of the dark and tower over her with an enraged expression.

Nop still walked beside her and pointed at the bath in the far corner, and she stepped closer, shaking like a leaf.

"Prof… Sna… Sev… Hello?" She got no answer, and forced herself to keep walking. The first thing she noticed was the black hair, and as fear for him overrode her own fear for herself, she hastily closed the distance and touched his head, fearing that he had drowned.

But his head was above the water and he was curled up on his side, with his back to her. She saw his chest rise and the distinct odour of alcohol wafted off him. He didn't smell like a distillery, but it was clear that he had consumed some liquor. Belatedly, she noticed how cold the room was and that no steam was rising from the tub.

She dipped her fingers into the water, finding it ice-cold.

"Oh gods," she moaned, touching him more firmly. "S-Severus," she rushed out and tried to turn him over, keeping her eyes firmly on his face.

His eyes opened sluggishly and a shiver ran through his body, as he turned towards her slightly. "What are you doing 'ere?" he said, slurring just a little and managing to look angry despite his miserable state.

"Making up for hurting you," she whispered, and cast a slight warming charm on the water, not wanting to heat up his body too quickly. Merlin knew how long he'd been in there.

"Didn't I hurt you?" he asked, honesty confused, jerking at the temperature change. He could vividly recall her shocked face after the mention of mutilated genitalia.

Hermione remembered the comment, but hadn't been hurt as such, only utterly humiliated as he had inadvertently remembered her of her own ghastly appearance 'down under'. She had forgotten that he knew everything of her torture, after using Legilimency on her abductors. No, he hadn't hurt her with his words, merely made her feel horribly inadequate.

"You made me remember something… horrid."

"I didn't mean to," he said contritely. His demeanour changed quickly into dismay, and he harshly ordered her to leave.

"No," she said. "Friends care for each other."

His arms lifted as if he was trying to cover himself with a nonexistent blanket, and he huffed when he realised his idiocy. He laughed weakly and curled up on himself.

"Friends aren't scared of each other," he countered and shrugged her hand off his shoulder, bringing his hands down to cover his groin belatedly.

Tears came unbidden, knowing that she was responsible for the state he was in.

"Forgive me, but when you turned all… _glowery_, you reminded me of the men who hurt me. I didn't recognise you anymore – you just scared the hell out of me," she told him and touched his wet hair to smooth it. "I never meant to hurt you. Please come out of the tub, you're freezing. Your lips are horribly blue."

"The cold dulls the pain," he said, and heard her stifle a sob.

"I'm sorry," she said and Levitated him out of the bath, overly careful not to glance at anything below his head. This was a grown, slightly drunk, naked male, and while she could snuggle against him when he was dressed, this naked version made her uneasy.

"Put me down!" he cried and struggled weakly, but she ignored him. He was alternating between covering his nakedness and trying to escape the spell that was holding him aloft.

Hermione kept her eyes on his face, but the darker flesh of his groin was still visible from the corner of her vision, and there was nothing she could do to escape the sight unless she stared stupidly at the ceiling, which she refused to do. She also refused to look at the Dark Mark that stood out against his pale skin, even though her natural curiosity dared her to study it in detail.

"Nop, dry him please and wrap him in a towel or something." She was just as flustered as the man beside her.

The elf did as he was asked, and with a few snaps of his fingers, Snape was dried and had his grey nightshirt on, as well as his equally faded bathrobe.

"Leave me," Snape whined and shut his eyes tightly. "Urgh, I feel sick," he said in a low voice and burped, only to gag afterwards.

Hermione guided the floating man to the floor and helped him up to lean over the toilet. The lid was already lifted, which was only fitting for a bachelor household.

The next second, the unmistakable sound of retching, and the splash of stomach contents meeting porcelain could be heard. The smell was horrid, and Hermione fought not to join Snape's activity - it was a close thing. She held his moist hair away from his face, stroking the nape if his neck with her ring finger.

"Not the neck," he managed to say between bouts of heaving, and she stopped her soft caress.

It took almost five minutes before Snape thought it safe to let go of the toilet. He flopped to the floor like a dead fish, almost banging his head on the bath.

With a few quiet spells, Hermione cleaned him up, removing all traces of vomit from his mouth and even his nostrils. Nop also came closer to offer his Master a glass of water which he had to bring to Snape's mouth as the man could hardly move, so tired and weak was he.

"I didn't drink that much," the wizard said, sounding surprised by his violent sickness.

"When was the last time you drank?" Hermione asked carefully, and saw him frown. "Maybe you're just not used to it anymore." Being the reason for his drinking binge made her guilt flare up with a vengeance.

Snape didn't answer but tilted his head towards her, making Hermione gasp softly at the horrific scar that marred the right side of his neck, which looked raised and raw. Whatever had caused that must be the reason for his unease whenever she had tried to stroke his neck.

He noticed where she was looking and turned his head the other way, letting his hair cover the blemish as much as possible.

"Nop," he mumbled, "bring me to bed, and throw her out. That's an order," he said, but didn't look at Hermione when he said it.

Before she could drown in self-pity at his attempt to get rid of her, she straightened.

"As I am also your Master… or Mistress," she said to the elf a little flustered, "I order you to ignore his drunken ramblings and listen to me. Bring him to bed."

Nop grinned softly at the antics of his two masters.

Now Severus looked at her, looking more annoyed at her underhandedness than enraged.

"Sneaky cow," he croaked. The next second, he was whisked away by Nop, who took him to his bedroom.

Hermione let out the water of the bath and gave the room a quick clean, lowering the toilet seat with a little smirk. She picked up his clothes, trying not to blush as she handled his underwear, and walked back out.

"Nop, where are you?" she called softly and heard his voice coming from a door to her left.

This was his bedroom, she noticed when she entered, and pointed at the pile of clothes she had dropped by the door, asking Nop to clean them.

"Will you be alright, little Miss?"

Hermione shrugged, and walked closer to the bed. Snape watched her every move, blinking slowly in between, apparently fighting sleep.

"Are you still cold?" she asked and he shivered in response. A gentle warming charm on his bedding relaxed him somewhat, and he snuggled deeper into his comforter.

The bed was huge, and so she made a decision in an effort to prove to both him and herself that she wasn't scared of him. She climbed in next to him, making his eyes widen in shock.

"Don't. This is not a game," he said in a pleading tone. This bed had never seen or known anything but his own body, and he wasn't sure that he could handle a soft feminine, sweet smelling creature so close to him.

"You're right, this is no game. I want you to know that I trust you, I can prove it," she said with the usual Gryffindor determination. But as hard as she tried, she couldn't lie down with her face next to his, so she turned around until her feet were situated next to his bewildered face and vice-versa.

The bed linen was starched to the point of course stiffness, and she wondered how he could sleep in this. She had other pressing problems, though, and her mouth formed a neat little 'o' through which she noisily sucked in air, only to exhale it with an equally loud huff. She sounded like a weight lifter who was about to lift the heaviest weight in her career.

It still felt less than normal to be in the same bed as the barely dressed man, and Hermione chose to talk, as was her wont when she was nervous.

"I can't explain what came over me this afternoon," she began, still breathing heavily. "Well, I can, but I'm afraid I will hurt you again when I tell you."

Severus watched her from wary eyes that looked over the edge of the comforter he was snuggled in, looking nothing like the Death Eater he was. The insane image of an equally snug Voldemort ghosted through her mind, but she chased it away quickly.

"It's just when you behaved and looked like a Death Eater, it suddenly hit me that you have hurt and assaulted … people before. I… I didn't really think you would hurt me in such a manner, but I was… u-uneasy to say the least. You looked less like my bonded and more like one of the thugs that hurt me. And that combined with the thing about s-sexual entertainment…"

He didn't answer, making her lift her head to see if he had fallen asleep, but his dark eyes were still open. Barely.

"Post traumatic stress dissol-dis… thing," he got out, not quite finding the right word without butchering it. "You were shocked to hear that I had sex," he stated so quietly that she almost missed it.

"Yes," she admitted with shame. "Don't get me wrong. The thought doesn't disgust me, and you're entitled to your… s-sexuality." She took a deep breath before she could continue. "I had just ignored the fact that you're all m-male, which made it easier to take physical comfort from you."

She turned towards his legs, resting her forehead against his shins which she could feel under the blanket he was wrapped up in. "It was just a bit too much at the time. I never meant to hurt you," she sniffed, and felt her throat get tight as she fought against the sobs that fought their way to the surface.

She spoke again. "Sleeping with whores seems as if you're using the women, and it doesn't matter that they want to be used. It just catapulted me back to France, back to the time where _I _was the one being used, and the thought sickened me."

Her voice gave out on the last squeaked word and she wrapped her arms around his thin legs, silently asking for forgiveness and seeking reassurance that she hadn't broken their friendship.

"Severus?" she asked when no reaction came from him. "Please tell me you forgive me. Don't leave me." She felt a little ridiculous when she realised that she sounded like a scorned lover, but her need for him was stronger than any embarrassment. "We're still bonded, right?"

Severus closed his eyes for a few seconds to relish the feeling of not being abandoned. Telling her that there was no bond between them, had been the most unsubtle lie he had ever told, and yet she had been insecure enough to believe him. Instead of enjoying her new freedom without a bonded partner, she had yearned to come back to him. His scarred little heart sang with pleasure.

"It's unbreakable," he said consolingly, and let one of his arms land across her ankle. Now that she made it clear she wanted the connection, he could tell her so and reassure himself with the words.

He was far too tired and drunk to have a meaningful discussion, but he had understood her reasons for running from him before, and he was simply glad and surprised that she came to him to beg him not to leave her, to give her another chance. This had never happened before. It had always been him that had done the grovelling.

"I haven't had a whore in over twenty years," he said out of nowhere, and heard her groan.

"It's really none of my business," she said uncomfortably, and patted his leg.

Their eyes drifted shut now that they had resolved their problem and finally - Finally! - their shared chest pain dissolved.

"You're so much prettier than any whore I've ever seen," he told her earnestly, and frowned stupidly at the wall after the words had left his mouth. His tongue was damnably loosened by the small amount of alcohol he'd had, but his brain wasn't foggy enough not to know what he was saying. What a horrid state that was!

"Okay," he heard her answer wearily, no doubt thinking of the best way to get away from the crazy old man.

Before that could happen he tried to reassure her. "I wouldn't make a good lover, so I've been told. You need a man with better…"

"Stamina?" she tried, clearing her throat loudly at her daring.

He snorted inelegantly. "No. Properly working bits," he answered, cutting off his drunken snorting when he processed what he had just said. He vowed to either never touch a drop of alcohol again, or get properly pissed until his tongue refused to form a single word.

"What do you mean by…?" she asked hesitantly after a long moment of painful silence, and he quickly interrupted her.

"We'll go to a different pub, next time," he added with a yawn, trying to sound as if he hadn't just made a fool of himself. "A nice pub with flowers, pancakes, clean serviettes, or whatever a young woman might like."

He was lulled to sleep by her light chuckle. When she snuggled against his leg, he shivered with pleasure and felt some warmth return to his body.

"I'll comb my hair, next time. Might make me look less…" He gestured jerkily through the air, as he searched for a word that could describe his demeanour.

Hermione interrupted him. "There's no need. I like how you look." By the time she realised how that statement might sound, her bed companion had drifted off to sleep, issuing the cutest little huffs she had ever heard. He sounded a bit like the old pug that had lived next door to her parents.

With an eye-roll at herself, she thanked the deities that she hadn't been stupid enough to voice that thought. With a last stroke of the thin leg that she cuddled with, she closed her eyes, and waited for sleep.


	36. Chapter 36

Thank you, Paisley Snail for your continued help! You're simply great!

* * *

He awoke, his head mercifully clear, or at least a lot clearer than it had been before, and with a toe poking into one of his nostrils.

There was a woman in his bed, and he had just slept next to her innocently– how extraordinary! He couldn't recall a single time that he had slept in anyone's company, unless he counted the times that he had recuperated in Poppy's care.

A woman in his bed, a student who had seen his naked hide… He waited for the dread and humiliation to set in, waited for the fear of being discovered and punished for this indecency. But nothing of the sort happened.

He tilted his head backwards and closed his eyes again, only listening to her soft snores which turned into odd grunts every few seconds. _A most peculiar witch_, he thought, but he hadn't enough experience with female bed partners, to know whether or not the sounds she produced were normal.

He felt content at that moment, not in the least guilty for letting her sleep next to him. No one would know except Albus, perhaps, but the old man wouldn't say anything or do anything but smile indulgently and ask impertinent questions later.

_To hell with propriety,_ he thought, and snuggled deeper into his bedding, only to realise that he was the only one covered by a blanket. That would probably explain why she was clinging to his legs like a baby, searching for warmth.

Not knowing where the hell he had put his wand, he concentrated and searched for hers, which he knew she kept in her sleeve. Once the slim piece of wood rested in his hand, again with an odd sense of familiarity, he whispered an incantation to conjure another duvet and heard her sigh in her sleep.

She lost the death grip she had on his spindly legs and wriggled around a bit before falling still again.

Severus smiled into the dimly lit room, which was only illuminated by one candle that had managed to burn longer than the others. It felt ridiculously normal to share the bed with his bonded by his side.

Warmth thrummed through his veins, lighting his soul from within. Feeling safe, he put an arm over the leg nearest to him and pulled it towards him with great care. With a shuddery sigh he enjoyed her nearness, satisfying his continued yearning for the feel of another human's warm flesh without having to deal with the sexual aspect and the complications it could bring.

He tucked her bare foot under his chin only to have her toes kick him against his jaw, making his teeth click together. It made him grunt, but when nothing else happened, he relaxed again and puckered his lips to press a gentle kiss on her big toe, but stopped at the last second. Instead, he ran his nose along her toes, feeling the nails skim over his skin. She snorted, and her foot jerked in his hand.

"What are you doing?" she asked sleepily, and suddenly lay very still and stiff, but wasn't removing her foot – yet.

He thought quickly, not really knowing what caused him to do such things around her. He just did what he felt was right, and what felt good.

"Apologising," was his reply, and he thought it quite a sensible one.

"To my foot?" she asked, incredulous.

He grunted in mild embarrassment. "At least it can't look at me fearfully when I go anywhere near it," he snarked defensively, and sighed immediately afterwards as he realised how childish he sounded.

"You haven't forgiven me," she said in a small voice, and tried to pull her foot away, but he held tight.

"I like holding grudges," he stated in a gruff voice, hearing the petulance in his voice and hating it.

"You don't say!" she scoffed, and squeaked in discomfort when he tried to wedge his nose between her toes. "I'm ticklish," she mumbled and fell silent again.

Glad that she hadn't pulled away completely, he tucked the foot back under his chin, unknowingly tickling her with the stubble that had sprouted on his face.

"Stop that, I'm trying to sleep," she giggled softly. Then more serious, "You don't have a weird foot fetish, do you?" The dread in her voice wasn't faked.

Now it was his turn to snort. "No, not that I know of," he promised.

"What are you apologising for?" she asked, a little bewildered. Gooseflesh erupted all over her forearms as his breath ghosted over her toes.

"I thought about what I said before you fled, and I have to tell you... that I know everything that has happened to you." He heard her moan and noticed how her breathing altered to a faster pace.

"Legilimency, I know. Poppy told me," she rushed out, before he could delve deeper into the subject. "And I thank you never to mention any of my injuries, especially the more… private ones, ever again. Besides, I wasn't angry with you, just disgusted by my less than perfect… b-body."

Severus was glad to hear that he hadn't actually hurt her with his thoughtless words, and debated whether or not to tell her about his own imperfections. In the end, he decided to keep quiet on the subject.

"Very well," he answered, not nearly as discomfited with the private topic as he would have been with another person. "There's one more thing. I did not intend to scare you, but I cannot promise that I won't do it again unwittingly. There will always be situations were I will have to play the part."

He heard her mutter, "In class, for starters," and smirked.

"No doubt," he confirmed dryly. "And you shouldn't forget… what I am."

"My bonded?"

He could hear the faint amusement in her tone, but he answered seriously. "A Death Eater!"

"My bonded," she said firmly and the discussion was closed again.

Severus, however, was afraid of a relapse if she kept ignoring what he was. With a fluid movement he was on all fours and looming over her, trying to ignore his throbbing temples.

"I am a Death Eater, don't forget it. I am cruel and brutal, vindictive, spiteful… I can kill without batting an eyelid, and I can sleep just fine afterwards."

Her deer-in-the-headlight look was suddenly replaced by a mild frown. "You're lying."

He looked owlishly at her, wondering what she was playing at.

"You're lying," she repeated, trembling slightly with fear but her voice was strong. "At least about the last part of your brilliantly scary speech." Her hand came up to push his hair away from his face to see his eyes better. "You don't sleep well afterwards."

"And how would you know?" he drawled, and pressed her hand back against the bedding and held it there.

"Let go," she wheezed and almost choked on her own saliva, but she managed to stay strong.

Severus followed her order with a mental growl at himself for overdoing it. He was surprised, when instead of scolding him or fleeing from him, she continued with her explanation.

"I can feel it," she said, bewildered by the realisation.

"Oh, bollocks," Severus said with none of his usual verbal grace. "Don't tell me this is another result of the ritual." He leaned back against the headboard, and the part of him that wasn't annoyed with yet another result of the ritual he'd used was just glad that she hadn't looked too panicked as he had towered over her.

"So I was right." It wasn't a question, but more of a gleeful statement. It made him glower at her.

"Yes, you little pain," he said sourly.

Hermione just chuckled at his childish fit of pique and wriggled closer to his legs, which were crossed at the ankles.

"Are we okay again?" she asked, and lifted her head a little to bravely look at his shadowed features.

He nodded, his eyes relaying the relieved smile that refused to show on his lips.

She hugged his thin legs with a happy sigh and closed her eyes as if they hadn't just made an incredible find.

"You should get back under the covers, your feet are icy," she told him, trying to go back to sleep. She smiled to herself, realising that she really did trust him. He might manage to make her uneasy at times, but she promised herself that she would try and work through that.

Severus' eyes goggled, aghast at her ability to just ignore this latest development, and pinched his nose. They would have to discuss this another time, not right now in the middle of the night, so he gave in and stretched out in his bed again, staying on his back. The movement dislodged Hermione, but she didn't complain, simply wrapping her arm around his thighs, which were now level with her upper body.

"Unless you want to be scared again by my… maleness, you might want to lower your arm," he said, with painful honesty. Her elbow was perilously close to his penis, and he feared scaring her with an erection. Talking about his genitalia was rather awkward, but he would have hated to see her run in fear.

With an embarrassed cough, she lowered her hand – in the wrong direction.

"Lower it the other way," he hissed when she almost grazed his thankfully still flaccid bits.

With a mouse-like squeal, she pulled her arm away and fumbled for his ankle, holding it securely.

"If you could allow the blood flow to continue, I'd be ever so grateful," he rumbled and chuckled at her apologetic patting of his appendage.

"What would McGonagall say?" Hermione asked when she had calmed herself.

"About?" he drawled, quite certain about what she meant to say, and wanting to hear it in her words.

"This. Us. Here."

He had to close his eyes and savour the word 'us' coming form her lips, trying to stop an insipid smile to form on his face. He had never been included in an 'us', unless he was amongst the Death Eaters or the faculty. Neither of those groups filled him with the wish to belong any more; he now had a wish to belong to her.

"We don't want to find out," he said blithely, and closed his eyes. He still couldn't summon any remorse over being in his bed with her. Since her return, he had only seen her as his bonded – a young woman that meant more to him than Minerva could possibly fathom.

xxx

It was hours later when Hermione woke with a gasp, her eyes wide and worried.

"Lumos," she said urgently.

Severus, light sleeper that he was, sat up immediately and looked down to the foot of his bed where she lay. Her panicked eyes, when she suddenly sat up straight, were making his heart race with worry.

"What?" he asked, his voice still rough from sleep. Had he done something to her while they slept – touched her indecently, perhaps?

"I told Nop to tell Poppy that I would be in the infirmary soon."

One of his thick but narrow eyebrows rose questioningly, the small hairs still a bit tousled from sleep, she noticed with fascination. At his obvious lack of understanding, she elaborated: "I never showed!"

He groaned and sank back into the bedding, throwing an arm over his face. "Nop," he called and grinned at Hermione's shriek when the elf popped up on the bed, bouncing slightly on the mattress.

"Yes?" the small creature asked, a wide grin forming on his face when he noticed how his two humans had spent the night. "You is fast," he said with surprise, but also male appreciation for a bloke who had apparently scored. The meaning of his words was unmistakable.

"NOP!" said two displeased voices whose owners studiously avoided eye-contact.

Wrapping a blanket around herself despite her fully-dressed state, Hermione jumped from the bed.

"Nop, we did not have… intercourse," Severus ground out. It had been a lot easier to speak about such delicate subjects in the dark while he was all mellow from the alcohol!

"I see, too early yet," Nop said, with an understanding nod.

"We are friends, not a couple," Hermione seethed from a few feet away. She had begun to feel comfortable in Severus' presence, and now the elf had to put a heavy emphasis on sex and a man's needs. With a heavy heart she shrugged out of the duvet to leave.

"Wait," Severus called, and climbed from the bed, not overly comfortable in just his nightshirt. When during the night he had lost his bathrobe was anyone's guess. "Hermione, wait!" It could have been the usage of her first name or the pleading tone that made her turn, but he was glad that she hadn't fled.

"I told you before that I don't require… sex from you," he told her, feeling warmth rush to his cheeks.

Hermione spoke before she could edit her thoughts. "You know, I don't know whether to be glad or insulted," she said truthfully.

That brought him up short, and he just stared at her. "You want to have sexual relations?" he whispered, wondering if any alarm bells would go off in Albus' office at the heavy usage of the s-word between student and teacher.

Hermione nibbled on her lip and produced a nonsensical "Hmm…phhh?" She shrugged helplessly. She really didn't know. She was scared of a man's body, especially the protruding parts in the middle. And she loathed her mutilated bits, not wanting anyone to see them. On the other hand, she still yearned for some physical attentions.

"I don't think I want to die with just that one… experience," she said softly, staring at the ground. "But there are other factors that make me want to be celibate forever."

"That was your first time?" he asked, sounding as miserable as she felt. He saw her nod.

Both stood in silence, not sure what to do or say.

"What did you call me for?" Nop interrupted the oppressive silence, sounding as snarky as his master.

Severus was grateful for the change of subject. "Did you tell Poppy that Miss Granger would be coming later?"

"Of course," the elf began, sounding indignant, "but when I broughts little Miss here, I wents back to Madam Pomfrey and told her that she founds a place to sleep with you."

"What did Poppy say?" Severus wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Nop grinned in a salacious manner, really not the average doting elf, it seemed. "She snorted with amusement, then wents back to her rooms."

"Lovely," Hermione grumbled. "Why does everyone think we are doing… more than we actually are?"

"Because you are bonded," Nop told her softly.

"But I thought the spell didn't necessarily mean that we are going to be… lovers," she almost whined. "Why can't anybody tell me the exact definition of that bloody ritual?" she barked suddenly.

"Severus wills surely do so, when time is rights," Nop soothed her.

"Will you stop speaking for me, Nop! Maybe I should insist on proper address from you, elf," Severus snarked.

His elf grinned and gave a mocking bow before disappearing.

"Has he got a split personality?" Hermione wondered aloud. "He is always different."

Severus didn't answer her question, but fidgeted slightly. "I believe it is time for breakfast soon."

"What time is it?" she asked, searching the walls in futile for a clock.

Severus pinched his nose, he really didn't have a clue what the time was, he had only wanted to be alone to attend some urgent business. His head was beginning to hurt in earnest now.

"It seems I have been asked to piss off," she said and drew her eyebrows together at his behaviour.

"I need to… get ready," Severus huffed in explanation, not wanting to say that he needed to empty his bladder and have a bowel movement. Some things were just too private to talk about. Perhaps his foot-shuffling might have given him away, as she bit her lower lip with a suppressed smirk.

Before he had a chance to blush, Severus shooed her to the door, not unkindly. "Go on, I'm sure Nop will already be waiting for you."

"I have been told to eat in the Great Hall from now on," Hermione said moodily, missing the kitchens already.

"Albus?" he guessed, and saw her nod with a glower. "As soon as you've passed your exams, you can eat at the Head Table," he told her, and saw her nod.

"I don't have to use all four weeks of preparation if I don't want to, do I?"

"Why, are you thinking of taking them earlier?"

"I believe a week of intense studying will do," she said, nodding to herself.

"If you're only in a hurry to escape the student benches, I'd advise you not to do it. If you don't pass your N.E.W.T.s, you will have to finish the year the normal way, you know that."

"Two weeks, then," she said, as if trying to make a deal with him.

He looked bemused. "You don't need my permission to do anything," he said, even though he secretly liked her asking for his opinion.

She nibbled on her lower lip again, and Severus watched her while absentmindedly scratching the skin just above his pubic hair. Of course, Hermione would choose that moment to look at him again. When she saw what he was doing, she blushed and stuttered a hasty "Goodbye".

He watched her leave. "Well, you have just destroyed what little sexual interest she might have had in you, old fool," he muttered to himself, feeling disturbingly disappointed at that thought, not to say jealous at whatever nincompoop she would eventually choose. He rubbed his forehead as he stomped off into his bathroom.

He noticed that his toilet seat was lowered and rolled his eyes, knowing it must have been the bushy-haired imp. His days had been getting weirder and weirder since she stumbled into his life. The thought didn't bring the vexation he had expected, but another thing that was even worse: confusion.

Things were getting blurry, and he didn't know what to think anymore, how to act. Could he continue to let her into his life without any remorse, without any fear for the ramifications? Had the ritual addled his brain?

The longer he thought about it, the more confused he became. What had seemed perfectly easy in the dark room and the bed they'd shared felt preposterous when he stood in front of his mirror looking at himself. How had he jumped from accepting her friendship to thinking about the girl in connection with sex?

He stood for an eternity, toothpaste running down his chin and reddening the sensitive skin there as he tried to reach a conclusion that refused to come. Somehow he couldn't get past the selfish need to accept everything she could offer. He wouldn't push her or force her to do anything, but other than that, he would hopelessly enjoy the times when she needed physical reassurances.


	37. Chapter 37

A sincere thanks to my dearest, PaisleySnail, a wonderful and talented beta.

* * *

Hermione did eat in the Great Hall as ordered, but being sneaky, she appeared well before any of the other students would ordinarily show up. Nop had been nice enough to bring her breakfast in the vast empty Hall, grinning when he understood what she was doing.

"Severus woulds be proud of you," he told her.

"And the Headmaster will be pulling his hair out in frustration," she added wryly. She wasn't about to give in to his request yet. Not because she wanted to go against him, but solely due to her averse reaction to noisy masses of students. If she had to eat in the Great Hall, she would do so on her own terms.

She left just as two young students arrived that she had never seen. She knew they must be first years whose Sorting she'd missed.

"Hello," one of the girls said, with a wide but hesitant smile.

"Have you eaten all alone?" the tiny girl with long black hair asked.

"Er, yes," Hermione answered, and was about to pass the two girls when one of them spoke again.

"Is it because of that mean boy? He really said some horrible things," she whispered, and looked around as if anyone could overhear the conversation.

"What boy?" Hermione asked with a frown, already with an inkling as to who the girls were speaking about.

"Ronald Beasley," the other girl chimed in, only to immediately bite her lip at her forwardness.

"Do you mean Weasley?" Hermione asked, and pinched her lips in foreboding, not sure if she wanted to hear what Ron had done this time.

"I'm not sure, we sat at the other and of the table, but he was really loud."

"What did he say?" Hermione asked and gestured the girls to sit down before they could trip over their shuffling feet.

And so the girls began to retell in intricate detail, complete with theatrical facial expressions and wild hand gestures, what had occurred the day before. Hermione's eyes darted from one girl to the other; they both had the annoying habit of finishing each other's sentences like Fred and George Weasley.

She stayed patient, keen to hear everything they had to say. When they were done, glowing with pride at their camaderie and a keen need to see how the older girl would react, Hermione smiled at them, even though it was a difficult thing to do with her clenched teeth.

"Boys are stupid," the black-haired girl said, with a pout that made her look her age. Just for a moment, Hermione longed for this state of innocence.

Yet, the poignant summary was too good to be ignored, and Hermione grinned at them.

"Most of them, yes." But then a mental picture of a tender, commiserating Snape appeared, and she leaned closer to the young girls who widened their eyes at whatever wisdom the older girl was about to divulge. "But once in a while, there is a really special one that cares for you. He will make everyone else pale in comparison. That one is worthy of your regard and your trust."

The young girls nodded, wide-eyed, as if they had witnessed their first prophesy, and watched in awe as Hermione left the Hall just as they began to hear the first students arrive.

"She's great, isn't she?" the black-haired girl said to her companion.

"Yes," the other one said, with an exited smile. "And now we're her friends!"

Hermione heard their happy squeals even through the heavy door, and laughed softly. However, the thought of her erstwhile best friend quickly turned her sour, and she vowed to herself to ignore the redheaded prat from now on. Someone who thought she had happily been raped to get attention was just sick and not worth her time any longer.

Just a few yards from the Great Hall, Dumbledore stepped into her path and stopped her with just a glance, asking her why she hadn't eaten. With a cheeky smile she patted her tummy, telling him that she was already done.

He cottoned on quickly and sighed softly, but couldn't help but smile at her tactic.

"Do I have to fear that Severus is rubbing off on you?" he asked quietly, so that no one could overhear anything. Students walked past them, watching them covertly.

Hermione goggled a bit at his free use of the potion master's name, as it was still a rarity to use it herself.

"I don't think so. He's not rubbing anything… I mean, he's doesn't rub…" She winced at the verbal gibberish she was producing, but something about the word rubbing in connection to her Bonded made her pulse speed up.

Albus chuckled softly and bit his cheek before he could come up with a retort he should not use when speaking with a student. He was rather amused, though, by the blushing, cringing young woman before him.

"Be that as it may, my dear, I must ask you once more to be here for mealtimes."

He gazed at her over the rims of his glasses, making it clear that he would not accept excuses any longer.

With a harrumph and a barely polite nod, Hermione left the hall, trying to fight her way past the now entering hungry students.

She spent the next few hours in the library, forcing herself to read a few books that might help with her upcoming exams. Her enthusiasm for studying had diminished noticeably since her horrible experience in France, and her concentration wasn't up to par.

It saddened her greatly that her parents would never be able to see how well she did in any exams, nor would they know what she would achieve in her future. Not that she had done so much work over the years solely to please her parents, but it had felt wonderful to hear their honest praise and see their pride. It had made her happy in turn.

Now the only reaction she would get would be the disdainful laughter, annoyance or jealousy the other students had always displayed when they saw Hermione's success with scholarly projects…

With a small sigh, she opened a book at a random page, but couldn't for the life of her remember anything she read. After ten long minutes, her eyes wandered from the yellowed pages to stare out onto the lake.

What little focus she had vanished with alarming speed, and she was assaulted by scenes of her life with her parents. She had noticed that those visions of a whole and near perfect life had tripled since the funeral, making her awfully aware that she was an orphan now, and that this was something that she couldn't change.

Her eyes were brimming with tears in no time, and the arrival of Harry went completely unnoticed until he made his presence known by gently clearing his throat.

Her head whipped around in fear, uncaring about her reddened cheeks and eyes. She calmed when she saw Harry's apologetic face, and used her sleeve to make herself more presentable. If she was less than successful in doing so, Harry was too polite and nervous to point it out.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, mildly worried by his uncomfortable expression.

"Happy birthday, Hermione," he said, his smile a little lopsided and unsure. He seemed to remember the present in his hands, and held it out to her. "For you," he said unnecessarily.

Hermione blinked and took the box automatically. "But today is not my birthday," she suddenly blurted out. "It's… erm, tomorrow, or on…" She gave up quickly, noticing that she had no clue what the date was. She couldn't even say what the date of her parents' funeral had been, only that it had been on a Friday.

Harry looked just as bewildered as her. There had been a few times when he had almost missed her birthday in the years they had known each other, but this year he was absolutely sure that today was the day. Well, relatively sure.

"Uhm, yes it is, I think. Today is the nineteenth. That's the right date, isn't it?" The puzzled shock on her face made him doubt himself more with each passing second.

"But it can't be… I mean, I would know if it were my birthday," she said, looking down at the unskilfully wrapped present in her hands.

"Well, you just have other things on your mind these days," Harry said, with a laugh that sounded a little forced even to his own ears. "It's only natural that you'd miss your own birthday."

"Hmm," was all she could say, wondering when she had become so detached from reality that she almost missed her own birthday.

"Open it," Harry told her, trying to diffuse the oddness of the situation.

She did so, and was glad to be able to produce a grateful smile when she spotted a selection of sweets. Underneath the box lay something else. She felt no surprise at receiving a book – she had received one on every possible occasion for as long as she could remember – but the title made her expression hard and sped up her breathing.

'_The trauma of sexual assault.'_

She didn't dare touch the cover, nor did she want to delve right in, as she used to do with other tomes.

Harry was getting more and more uncomfortable, very much regretting not having listened to Ginny when she had proposed some nice novel.

"You can change it, of course," was the first thing to come out of his mouth – a far cry from the 'How do you like it?' he would have used in normal situations. She didn't even react to his words, and he ran a moist hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I thought it would be a good idea, since you probably haven't had anyone to talk to. I had to order it from a Muggle shop, since there isn't anything like it in the Wizarding world. "

Hermione looked up, her face pale and her eyes pleading for him to just stop talking, but he didn't decipher her expression, too busy trying to find the right words.

"The whole school knows what happened, but not even your best friends know the details, and Ron and I… Well, I think that talking about it will help you. You just have to open up, and then we can all move on. The old Hermione will be back in no time." He smiled hopefully at her, showing that he truly believed what he had just said.

Her answering smile was more a grimace, really, and she wondered what she could say without hurting his feelings. It was annoying her greatly that she still had to be the considerate one, while others hurt her feelings and ignored her wishes again and again. Harry had tried to be considerate in his own brash way, though, and she would try to be nice, even if only to keep the peace. She was fed up with having daily confrontations.

"That's very…" she shook her head, not quite sure what to say. "Listen, Harry. If I wanted to talk about it, I would have, believe me. It's not a lack of trust, but I just know that talking about the events will only bring back the pain and nothing else. Talking about it will only satisfy your curiosity, not help me get over it."

"How do you know? Have you even tried?" Harry asked, his voice already changing to offended. He noticed and tried to smooth out his frown before she got up and left.

"I just know, Harry," she said, with a sigh.

Harry rubbed his jaw ferociously, feeling that his endeavour to get through to her was going to be a failure. "Just let us be there for you," he tried. "We… I want to do what's best for you."

"What's best for me is to be left alone, and not forced to open up or be jolly."

"But you can't grieve and mope forever, Hermione," he pointed out sternly, unable to help himself. "I won't let you hide forever, building more and more walls around yourself. If you think I will stand by and watch as you destroy yourself, you've got another thing coming." His righteous anger didn't last long, and he already cringed mentally at his brashness. Why was he never able think before he spoke?

She laughed mirthlessly. "Are you intending to berate me for my way of dealing with this?" she asked, in an almost belittling fashion, knowing and not caring that it would set him off again.

"You are _not _dealing! That's what's bothering me."

"I AM!" she shouted hoarsely, and then continued in a quieter voice, but only because she knew her vocal chords would protest to too much screaming. "This is how I deal: I'm calm to the point of numbness, with occasional bouts of river-like tears. I prefer to spend time with myself, and those who .!"

She flung her arms heavenwards, at an loss for how to deal with him. "What would you say is respectable behaviour? Hmm? Look sad during classes, cry myself to sleep for a week and then be done with it?"

She stalked towards him, thrusting an accusatory finger at his chest, stopping short of actually poking him.

"You don't get to tell me how to grieve, Harry Potter, just because you don't like it, just because my healing doesn't include you or Ron. I'm not doing this out of maliciousness, but what you are doing to me certainly feels like it."

Harry drew breath to retort, without knowing what to say other than voice a flat denial of everything she had said. She didn't let him.

"I told you what I need; if you refuse to give me what I need then it's because of some misguided attempt to make yourself feel useful, and to prove your worth."

Both stared at each other with red faces, their agitated breaths clashing between them.

Hermione fought the urge to just run away, but thankfully the needy wish to come to some sort of conclusion with Harry won out. She was fed up with arguing every few days, and tip-toeing around each other in the meantime.

So she sat down again, biting her lower lip fiercely. Harry exhaled roughly a few times, until he had his temper under control before joining her at the table. They sat in silence for a while, both unsure how to proceed.

Hermione twitched with slight unease when Harry leaned closer, and felt silly when he only removed the book from her hands. He had noticed her reaction and clenched his fists around the book, hating to see her so scared of him.

"It was a silly idea. I'll get you something else, okay?" His voice wavered, and he swallowed hard to regain some calm. "I just wish I knew how to help you," he tried. "If I could I would turn back time, and undo everything, I would. Even though I have no idea what exactly happened…" A short bark of laughter escaped him, but it turned into an almost sob, and he quickly cleared his throat.

"I forgot," he said, after a nervous throat-clearing, and pulled an envelope from his pocket. "This is from Ginny."

She took it and opened it with more gentleness than was necessary, but it seemed to fit the fragile peace between them. She retrieved a letter with Ginny's neat writing, and had to smile at the few lines it held:

_Happy birthday, Hermione,_

_Since you haven't taken me up on the offer of a nice and relaxing session in the ROR yet, I hereby warn you that I will now make this a mandatory meeting. Someone as old as you, my dear, will need some pampering to avoid early wrinkles._

_Be prepared for a lovely time,_

_Love,_

_Ginny_

Hermione smiled softly, and put the short note back into the envelope.

"Should have known that Ginny has the better ideas when it comes to presents," Harry said with a rueful smile, getting a faint grin from the girl opposite him.

"I want to… Do you think you can stand a hug?" he continued, suddenly near tears again. "We always exchanged hugs on such important dates."

The sight of an almost crying Harry made her well up again, and she steeled herself, annoyed with herself for feeling discomfort at the mere idea of hugging him her. It was so much easier to fling herself at Severus, yet the embrace of her long-time friend made her start sweating. She nodded, though, and felt herself stiffen when he got up to wrap his arms around her in a gentle sideways hug.

His chin dug into her shoulder, and she felt his breath stirring her hair. This wasn't the same short but heartfelt hug she had received the previous years. No, Harry was very much grown up, and despite his relative shortness, he was a man now – a sexually active and aware man.

He smelled of a soft aftershave that masked the innocent scent she was used from him, and her spine tingled unpleasantly, remembering the nauseating stench of her abductors.

She'd never seen Harry in this light and it was somewhat disconcerting. Her arm came up to grip his wrist, deciding whether to end the embrace or not. Apparently, her grip was harder than she meant to, and he removed himself with a wince before she could.

"Where is the old Hermione?" he asked softly as he sat down, a sad smile gracing his disappointed face.

"Gone, I think," she told him in the same tone.

Harry cocked his head in apparent thought, before shaking his head. "Fractured, maybe, not gone."

She wasn't so sure, but kept quiet. She wasn't sure of anything, these days.

Looking at her friend, who regarded her with equal intensity and a mixture of regret and earnest worry, something bubbled hot inside of her, pressing against her ribcage before she finally needed to decrease the pressure by talking.

"They were three men, who broke into our summer house in France. One night, they broke into our house, killed my parents in front of me, before… taking me away." She continued quickly before her suddenly parched throat forced her to stop. "They hurt me and they…. You know what they did." Her breath escaped in a quivering rush. "I was a prisoner in their cellar, with hardly any food or water, and they kept… visiting me to molest me. I… I always thought that Death Eaters might get my family. I'd never figured it could be Muggles that would destroy my life."

Harry sat stunned at her revelation, not sure if he really was better off knowing what had happened. He was grateful that she let him in again, but felt like a prick of the worst sort when he saw how much it had cost her. She was pale as a ghost and shivering while her vacant eyes looked at nothing in particular, wide with remembered pain and fear. No, he wouldn't ask for anymore information.

Gently, he put his hand on her forearm, smiling to himself when Hermione only sighed at the contact without shrugging him off.

He had always thought he was the record holder for awful birthdays, but Hermione really had outdone him.

"I'm so sorry," he rasped, shaking his head at the utter uselessness of these words. How often had he said those words to placate a seething Hermione when he had deliberately left his homework or studying till the last minute? More times then he could count!

He had said those words to her so often with a sardonically amused eye-roll at her, laughing at her sisterly behaviour…

He had said sorry to Ginny on many occasions; he had apologised to Ron, other Gryffindors, to Dumbledore and last but not least the Dursleys, who had drilled the apology into him by force.

But never had he been more genuinely sorry than now, and he cried helpless, silent tears at his inability to alleviate the pain and trauma for his friend.

"So sorry!" he managed once more before his throat seized up, and once more it was her turn to reassuringly squeeze his hand to ease his guilt and weariness. It was _her_ that stroked his hair softly as he put his face in his hands and sobbed softly, putting his needs in front of hers.

Harry was deeply grateful for her never-faltering need and ability to care for her friends first, but his guilt made his gut clench painfully. It was supposed to be _him_ taking care of her now, but he was too busy drowning in snot and mucus…


	38. Chapter 38

Hi, everyone. Many have been wondering about the lack of updates. Well, RL is in shambles at the moment, and I haven't got much time or inclination to write. I managed this new chapter, but I have no idea when I can write another.

I want to see this story finished, but I can't promise much development any time soon.

Enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

They remained sitting at the table, speaking little and trying to avoid any significant topics. Although they had an unspoken agreement that mentioning Ron was taboo, it still wasn't easy to talk.

"Erm, would you like to come and watch our Quidditch team play?" he asked, before he could make his nails bleed from the continued nibbling he did on them.

He knew her answer before she gave it, but he wasn't prepared for the amused smile she sent his way.

"I might have changed, Harry, but not even a lobotomy would make me enjoy Quidditch," she told him in a wry tone.

He snorted heartily and leaned back in his chair, making the old wood creak. "Sorry, Hermione, but to tell you the truth, I don't know what I can talk about with you," he admitted with a hint of humour and resignation.

She nodded and turned back to the window. "I'm not the most satisfying company, I know."

Seeing her withdraw again, he quickly leaned forward. "No, no. It's me. I'm just not good at leading a conversation. I like talking with you. You're fun!" Okay, that had been rather over the top, and her sardonically raised eyebrow only confirmed it.

She wasn't angry or insulted by his poor attempt to make her feel better, and looked at him intently.

"Listen, Harry. We are still friends. We don't have to hang onto each others' coat tails to prove it. I like it quiet these days, and idle chit-chat is far from what I need." She smiled, hoping to stop him from sulking.

"But you shouldn't be all alone. You'll end up as an old maid if you keep up…" He broke off when he became aware of the glare Hermione sent his way.

"You're doing it again, Harry Potter," she said sternly, making him shift in his seat at the use of his whole name. "You're trying to tell me how to behave, and what to do."

He looked at her with a sheepish grin, realising himself what he had done. "Sorry, can't seem to help myself."

"Yes, I can see that. You've always been like that, and I shouldn't have expected you to change this annoying habit of being a little too self-important as you get older." Her lips quirked in amusement when he grimaced at her description of him. "Besides, there are worse things than being a lonely old maid"

"Really?" he asked, with a challenging glint that made her fall into her deliberately swotty role with startling ease.

"Oh, yes. I could end up as a crazy old cat lady with only a scar-headed friend to drag her out to play Bingo with other wrinkled senior citizens, just to get her to mingle."

"How lucky the old bird would be to have such a concerned friend," Harry retorted jovially, making her punch him on the shoulder.

"Weirdo," she said softly.

"I love you, too," he said easily, a far cry from the shy boy he had been. He used to shy away from a hug when his bushy-haired friend had treated him to one of her many impromptu signs of affection.

Before she could wonder about the change in him over the summer, he spoke again. "It's lunchtime. Are you coming with me?"

"I will have to. The headmaster has forbidden me from eating in the kitchens," she grumbled and began to put her many untouched books away.

"So that's where you've been all the time," he said, helping her with the books, silently wondering about the lack of notes.

They wandered out of the library together; Hermione with her sweets in a pocket, Harry with the shrunken book he had vowed to exchange for something different.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

The hush that fell over the Great Hall was rather noticeable when Hermione followed a protective looking Harry through the doors. They hadn't seen much of her since the news about her rape had spread, and they all tried to catch a glimpse of the girl who had endured such trauma.

Hermione breathed lowly, keeping her eyes on Harry's back and her fists clenched tightly without realising it. She slid in to the free seat next to him without checking who was sitting next to her.

Only the soft "Happy birthday, Hermione," made her look up and into the face of Ginny Weasley, who gave her a smile that bordered on pity.

"Did Harry give you my present?" she asked and drew the flummoxed Hermione into a hug - the second one today.

"Erm, yes," the unsmiling birthday girl got out and was glad when she was released. She felt like succulent meat on a platter served to hungry werewolves in the all too quiet hall, and she barely managed to stutter out a belated thanks under the continued scrutiny of nearly every student.

"Good," Ginny replied, and held out various dishes and plates for Hermione to chose from. "I have to tell you that I will steal you away and drag you…" She paused with pinched lips. "Bad choice of words. Sorry," she said contritely and put two more rashers of bacon on Hermione's already overfilled plate to make up for her faux pas.

"You really should be pampered tonight, I wanted to say," the youngest Weasley continued, garnering a hum from the girl next to her which could have meant anything.

Hermione suddenly noticed that Ron wasn't there, and was more than glad to be spared his comments. She could imagine his disdainful sneers at seeing her receive hugs and presents. She didn't even want to know where he was, and tried to begin eating, hoping to be able to swallow with her tight throat.

She was just about to munch on some bacon when Neville stood from a few seats away to come nearer.

"Hey, Hermione. Happy birthday," he said quietly, without the slightest blush on his face. This year it was Hermione that looked uncomfortable with getting so much attention.

"Thank you, Neville," she said, waiting on tenterhooks for the next hug that would undoubtedly follow. She was surprised when he simply stood next to her and pressed a gentle kiss on her temple.

The gesture was so sweet, and so decidedly unexpected that happy and embarrassed tears filled her eyes.

"Thanks," she croaked again and buried her face in her goblet, almost choking on her pumpkin juice.

Hermione hoped that people would finally turn back to their own breakfasts, and their own lives, but it wasn't to be. Normally, these three people, excluding Ron, would have been the only ones to even know, remember or acknowledge her birthday. But for some reason, this year, many more people decided to pay more attention to her, even if it was out of pity.

Dean and Seamus got up together and handed her a few pretty flowers, which she took with a shocked expression. Before she could gather her scattered wits and thank them, Rosalie approached with a small cuddly toy that had some chocolate attached to it.

"Chocolate is good in almost every situation," she told the older girl before bustling off again.

A group of four young boys had the guts to deliver their presents. They were fourth-years, as far as she could remember, and were blushing to the roots of their hair by the time they had stuttered out "Happy Birthday." They ran off again, moving as a pack, revealing two more well wishers.

The two young girls who had apprised her of Ronald's tirade of hatred stood in front of her, holding out two small boxes.

"We heard it's your birthday, Miss Granger," they chorused, looking utterly cute with their luminous eyes and wide smiles.

"Thanks, girls," Hermione choked out, spilling a few more tears at the unexpected support she had gotten. She mentally scolded herself for completely forgetting her own birthday, already thinking of how disappointed these young students might have been if she hadn't shown up all day.

The girls giggled happily at Hermione's grateful smile before bouncing off, leaving Hermione with an armload of small presents and flowers.

The last one to approach her was Luna, who came over from the Ravenclaw table.

"Happy birthday, Hermione," she said, in her typically dreamy voice, looking totally unfazed by the attention they were getting. "Look at this one later, I'd say," she said cryptically and placed the heavy looking present in Hermione's lap. Instead of hugging the overwhelmed Gryffindor, she softly ran her fingers through her wild tresses a few times before placing a small black rose in them. "You're a beautiful woman." With those unexpected words, she flounced back over to her table.

"It's not the first time a student has celebrated his or her birthday," the headmaster's voice suddenly boomed through the still quiet room, finally giving Hermione a moment of peace. "But let it be said that I wish Miss Granger a happy eighteenth birthday. Spend it with true friends, and you will find joy even in the darkest hours. I speak for all of us," he said, indicating the entire staff, "in saying that we wish you a bright future, peace and fulfilment. Be strong, my dear."

That was the final straw and Hermione bent her head to obscure her face as hot tears dripped rapidly down her face, accompanied by bitter sobs. She really loved the old man, and felt ashamed for trying to disobey his orders. She was also filled with utter remorse over speaking so disrespectfully to her Head-of-House the day in the infirmary.

She realised how much she had changed after what had happened in France – and definitely not for the better. She was an ungrateful, snotty, disagreeable shrew, and it made her stomach clench with self-hatred. With blurry eyes she looked up at the High table, making eye-contact with McGonagall, who cocked at her head in question when she noticed that Hermione was looking at her.

The old lady wore a slightly pinched and confused expression, before realising what the young witch was mouthing repeatedly. At the sight of the tear-stained face of her favourite student, combined with the 'Sorry' that was being sent her way, the usually stern teacher felt her own eyes water.

Minerva smiled tenderly at her pupil to convey her forgiveness, before burying her face in her hands. It had become impossible to keep a clear head around that girl, so deep were her feelings for Hermione. Any other student would have earned a heavy tongue-lashing for their impertinence and the gall to talk back to a teacher, but Minerva was simply too affected by Hermione's tragic experience and her affection for the young witch to react appropriately.

"Everyone who isn't eating and minding their own business in three seconds will be thrown out of the Great Hall," the dangerous drawl of the potions master rang out through the once more silent hall.

Instantly, the clatter of cutlery and hushed whispers could be heard. Severus hated to see her on display like this, and sent a glare to Albus, who seemed intent on ignoring him. The potions master had noticed the exchange between Hermione and Minerva, and wasn't surprised that she regretted her sneakiness and disrespect. He sighed at Hermione's all-too-apparent Gryffindor behaviour.

With a barely concealed snarl, he rubbed his chest as a dull pain spread across it, making it feel like a ton of bricks was pressing down on him. He could still hear her sobs all the way from the Gryffindor table, and all he wanted to do was to hide her in a quiet, safe place for the months to come until everyone had forgotten what had happened to her. It was impossible and probably harmful for her in the long run, yet this was what he felt.

He was distracted by the arrival of the post, as were many students, who seemed to forget the drama around the Gryffindor girl for a moment. There were always more owls on Saturdays, and it was a noisy and messy spectacle as the owls brought their deliveries.

When most owls had settled on the various tables, more owls arrived with a concert of hoots and screeches. Four winged beasts were sailing down from the ceiling carrying something enormous between them. The sight was so unusual that another interested hush fell over the student population.

Many people watched fascinated as the quartet made out their goal and headed straight to the Gryffindor table. With a perfectly timed manoeuvre, they carefully dropped their delivery - in front of a dazed Hermione.

Helplessly, she looked at the four owls that now stood next to the enormous item they had brought.

"I think it's for you," Harry finally pointed out when nobody dared to say anything.

Hermione looked at him, wondering who he was speaking to, and drew back when she noticed he meant her.

"It can't be. There isn't anybody else who knows my birthday," she pointed doubt, not lifting a finger to inspect the cloth covered thing.

"Maybe it's from Remus or Sirius," Harry said under his breath, and heard her snort in doubt.

When she still made no move to look at the item, Harry touched what looked like a name tag.

"It's for you," he pointed out with a gloating smile. "Come on, let's see what it is." He sounded more eager than the girl the present was intended for.

With a face that was more suited for a fight with lethal banshees, Hermione tensely shifted forward in her seat and touched the deep blue cloth that hung over the big object. Slowly, she lifted it and was met by the sight of two huge, amber eyes that stared at her without blinking.

Hermione wasn't the only one who gasped when the creature greeted her with a deep, "Hoot."

"That's one big owl," Harry said with a short laugh, pointing out the obvious.

It really was a big specimen, Hermione agreed, as she studied the animal through the bars. It surely was as long as her arm, she reckoned, a little unnerved by the the bird's continued regard. It patiently held an envelope in its yellow beak, waiting for Hermione to open the cage to read its contents.

Everyone watched with baited breath as she opened the cage and put her hand inside, somehow scared to get close to the enormous beak that could injure her quite severely. When the feathered head dipped to release the letter, Hermione pulled back her hand with a squeak, earning her some laughter from various onlookers.

Squaring her shoulders, she reached inside again, trying hard not to cringe in fear when the huge head dipped yet again to hand over the letter. As soon as she had the missive she drew back.

The bird's only comment on her quick retreat was a calming, drawn-out "Hoooot."

The people closest to her tried to get a closer look at the letter, wondering who had sent the animal to her, but were disappointed when she didn't read it aloud or said anything about the contents.

But when her eyes filled with tears, Harry put a gentle arm around her to comfort her, and used the opportunity to read over her shoulder. What he read made him gulp in discomfort and fear for his friend's fragile state of mind.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Happy birthday, darling girl. Finally eighteen! My, how time flies. Now your maturity will finally be accepted legally, but for us you have been well beyond your years since the age of four. _

_You are probably wondering how we managed to get you this owl, considering we cannot go to Diagon Alley without your help. We are still in occasional contact with Arthur Weasley, you see, and he has been kind enough to pick us up via the 'Flu' __system. Only his continued fascination with all things Muggle, and his never ending kindness allowed us to buy something magical, rather than something mundane from our world._

_Besides, it is always a wonderful experience to step into a world that resembles a fantastic story. I'm not sure I could actually live in the Wizarding world, but it is simply marvellous to feel like a part of the old regency era for a long afternoon. _

_For once, we didn't want to get our bookworm yet another tome, and decided on another pet – one that might prove more useful than Crookshanks, not that we don't like the big lump._

_We liked the idea of an owl, as it would allow you to write to us without having to use a school owl all the time. Well, your Dad was quite keen to get his little girl one of those Pygmy Puffs, but I managed to convince him otherwise._

_So we chose the lovely owl that sits in front of you now, and goes by the name of Laszlo. He's from Bulgaria, and apparently his old owner didn't want to live with the bird's constant need for petting. Or rather, the aggressive streak he developed when he didn't get the cuddles he wanted._

_While your father was a bit worried about such a dubious character, I reminded him how much love you are willing to give any creature in need. We both were hoping that the poor fellow __will find a suitable home with you._

_He is two years old, and has another peculiar habit that has earned him the nickname 'Jogger'. It was your Dad's brilliant idea to give him that name…_

_Anyway, my dear, we bought him before your summer holiday, and it would have been difficult to bring him home with us. So we managed to arrange with the shopkeeper to have your gift sent out to you on your birthday. _

_We hope you are happy with your present, love, and that he and Crooks will get along. Write back as soon as you can – we have to see if your owl is as dependable as he was made out to be._

_Have a wonderful day, my dear._

_Mum & Dad_

_PS.: We are very proud of the young woman you have become, and are looking forward to see what you will achieve in the years to come._

By the time Hermione was finished, her eyes were burning with tears, and they fell onto the letter, promptly smearing the ink. She mewled in distress when the words Mum &Dad dissolved into a blur, and folded the missive with shaky hands to stuff it into the envelope. When she couldn't do it, Harry gently lifted the entire thing from her weak fingers.

Only he and Ginny had been able to read the content of the letter, and were anxious to see how their friend would react to this surprise.

"Who is it from?" Neville asked softly, leaning over the table with his upper body to keep the words as private as possible under the circumstances.

Two red-rimmed eyes looked at him, not distracting from the quivering lips that tried to form some words.

"M-my p-parents," she choked out, not knowing whether to smile or cry.

Neville frowned. "But I thought they are…" He couldn't continue, but his meaning was clear.

"They are," the distraught witch confirmed, as her mouth finally decided to give into its desire to cry, let out a soft sob. "And I buried them yesterday."

"What?" he asked in surprise. He caught Harry's eye, who gestured him to wait with this discussion until a later time, and subsided.

She didn't notice much of what was going on around her, and her eyes found the owl that looked back at her with its head cocked. He was the last connection with her parents – he had actually seen them, heard them. He had no doubt felt their hands on his feathered body.

She envied him. She was jealous of a bloody bird.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Harry asked, exchanging a worried look with his girlfriend when she didn't answer.

Still crying silently, Hermione picked up the cage with the owl still inside, and stood up.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Harry tried again, on his feet already.

Only then did Hermione glance at him for a moment. "I'll be fine," she said softly, and carried the heavy cage away.

"She left all her other presents," Neville pointed out with a deep sigh that spoke of how much he was affected by Hermione's never ending pain. "What a birthday."

They Gryffindors weren't the only ones to watch Hermione leave the hall with silent steps. The entire faculty, as well as almost every student observed her, but only a pair of black eyes blinked agitatedly in indecision.

When Severus suddenly saw Ronald Weasley enter the Great Hall, he was on his feet before he could think, but he wasn't the only one. Harry, Neville and Ginny were standing as well, wands in their hands in case Ron was about to hurt Hermione again.

As all eyes were on the redhead by the door and the approaching Hermione, nobody saw a blond Slytherin walk out of the hall through the other door.


	39. Chapter 39

Hermione saw Ron almost too late. With her eyes fixed on the owl in the cage she carried, she hardly noticed anything around her, making her steps falter when she spotted her erstwhile friend who had turned into a seriously deranged and vindictive young man.

Her face hardened instantly, not wanting to look weak in front of him. She was done with giving him ammunition by acting needy, hurt or simply sad.

She needn't have worried, though, as Ron lowered his reddening face and avoided looking at her. Yet even in her anger she noticed that he didn't look nearly as cocky as he had during their last confrontation, and she was flummoxed when he stepped back and held the door open for her to let her leave the hall. His face looked drawn and the smudges that spoke of a bad night's sleep were easy to make out, and his eyes almost looked regretful.

For a short moment Hermione considered stopping and enquiring about his strange behaviour, but decided against it before it only turned out to be some sort of prank to humiliate her. She had really lost all trust in him.

Ron carefully avoided getting to close to her, fearing a dressing down in front of the entire school for his behaviour from before. When she just walked away without bothering to even speak to him, he sighed deeply and stepped into the hall, feeling hundreds of eyes on him.

He raised his eyes to the Gryffindor table, and was met by hostile glares and housemates that looked ready to hex him should he give them more reason to. He looked away quickly and swallowed loudly before looking at the Head table.

Before anyone had a chance to ask what he wanted, the Headmaster dabbed his lips and stood.

"You are on time, Mr. Weasley. Let us not delay," the old wizard said, and closed in on the younger man who took a few steps back. Albus hid his small smile at the suddenly scared behaviour and led the redhead away without any further explanation to anyone.

Not even the faculty knew what their employer had planned and they exchanged questioning glances.

Minerva was the only one who had her eyes on Severus instead, seeing him massage his chest unobtrusively. She still was wary about the connection between the surly teacher and his student, not because she doubted his ability to care for another human being, but out of fear he grew too attached to the young girl. He was still a man, and that made her worry about her young cub.

Yet, he was undoubtedly the only one Hermione really needed.

"Severus, maybe you should go after her," she said quietly to her colleague, and was surprised with the speed he suddenly left the hall with. Had he really waited for her permission? She rather doubted it. "What am I missing?" she muttered.

At the same moment, there was another commotion at the Gryffindor table. Longbottom, Potter, and Ginny Weasley were gesturing over to the Slytherin table, before hurrying after Hermione and the Potion master.

Minerva was tired of the constant drama and confrontations among the students and their houses, and heaved a sigh. Merlin knows how Miss Granger was dealing with her never-ending agony she had to suffer in this school.

It broke her heart to see her favourite Gryffindor in such pain. She rose to her feet, intent on following the group.

xxx

Hermione was blissfully unaware of the many people in pursuit of her, her mind on nothing else but thoughts of her parents. The painful pleasure of seeing her mother's words had her in a state of trance.

…_proud of the woman you have become…_

The woman she was now was nothing but an easily scared, skittish and emotionally unbalanced kitten who was constantly stuck between showing her claws or deeming flight the better alternative. Now that she thought about it, she was ashamed and saddened by what she had become. She truly hated her irrational sullenness and her irritability.

… _the woman you have become_…

She stopped in her tracks, looking down at the owl that followed her with an adorable hobble, feeling herself smile in sudden clarity. She would go back to being the daughter her parents had been so proud of, she would try to stop feeling sorry for herself and grieve for her loss in a manner that was more becoming. Her smile dimmed when she was struck by the enormity and possibly rather problematic way to achieve her new goal.

"I can do it," she muttered to herself, snorting at the enquiring hoot from the bird that was doing is best to perch itself on her shoe.

She bent down to stroke the gorgeous thing, and when she straightened again, she looked into familiar grey eyes that held seemed to portray more fascination than the usual disdain.

Before she could utter a single sound of fear, she felt a spell wash over her, rendering her immobile but perfectly aware of everything around her. The cage she carried fell to the floor. She heard her new owl make a racket before the angry hooting was cut off after a whispered spell from Malfoy.

_Don't be dead, _she pleaded mentally, feeling more afraid for the bird than herself for a moment.

Draco's eyes narrowed in thought, as he contemplated what to do next. Smacking his lips, he Levitated Hermione's frozen body through a nearby door and into dark room, putting a Silencing and Locking spell up for good measure. Then he lit his wand to peruse his caught treasure. The spell Draco had used allowed him to mould her body into any position he wanted, and he made use of that fact by pushing her down rather gently into a kneeling position.

The smile on Malfoy's face was one of wonder at the beauty of her rather beautiful surrender. She hadn't made a sound when she had seen him, only her eyes had widened in fear. Normally, she would have looked back at him with bored indifference – as if he weren't worth even the slightest aggravation. But this new Granger, the one that got frightened in his presence, was a stunning thing to witness!

This was how it was supposed to be: the lowly Mudblood would realise that the Malfoy heir was her natural superior. He found it suited her enormously to kneel in front of him, her eyes filled with wonderful tears of fear. He smiled as he saw how right he'd been when imaging how beautiful she would look in a subservient pose. He didn't hate her at all in this state, but crooned his gentle reassurances to her.

"That's a good little Mudblood. Look up. Look at me. Good girl." His voice was soft, and his wand dug almost tenderly into her jugular as he tilted her head up.

His hand reached out to touch the tresses that quivered along with her jerky breaths. Glorious little witch. She would look so good when brought to heel adequately!

He was a pureblood through and through. He had been brought up with the irrevocable belief that purebloods were meant to rule about the creatures of lower blood and questionable heritage. The fact that this particular genetic mutant was one of the smartest witches of their age didn't make him doubt the pureblood's supremacy at all. Quite the opposite. It only made her even more of an unnatural occurrence, nothing more.

He believed that it wasn't their fault for being born against all odds, and he didn't hate them for their impure blood, he merely believed steadfastly that these Half-and Mudbloods should accept their rightful place on the magical ladder. They should learn how to serve, how to worship their betters. When they did, they were a thing to enjoy.

And he would take great joy in taking all Hermione Granger had to offer.

"You will be mine," he stated softly. It didn't sound like a threat, but a happy promise.

His hands slid down to her heaving cleavage, entranced by the magnificent goods her odd genes had allowed her to have. Like an inquisitive school boy, he lifted her skirt, to glance at her nether regions that were hidden by simple white knickers. That's how it should be, Draco thought, feeling his appreciation for her racket up a notch.

Nothing racy for those of lower blood, that right only belonged to the purebloods.

In absolute silence, he kept studying her body, feeling the softness of her skin, and the scent of her genitalia. Her breathing was agitated, and her body quivered within the tight reigns of the spell. Sweat broke out between her breast, and Draco ran his fingers between her globes with a smirk.

It was decided – he would ask his master for a boon. As a pureblood he had the right to collect Muggleborns to enslave them. It was a tradition as old as Wizarding kind itself, to make those of lesser value serve those with power. It was a tradition that Voldemort didn't mind, as long as no offspring would come from any of the servants.

The Dark Lord's goal was to rid the planet of most creatures of lesser blood, but allowed his followers to keep those that were worthy of serving, especially those pretty and clever enough to be a grace to a purebloods home. Worthy slaves, that was what he wanted.

Draco had taken his time to get to Granger, waiting for her to be weak and alone.

And he had found her to be perfect.

Once the Dark Lord had killed Potter and his worthless blood traitor friends, Draco would gladly train her in being a good servant. She'd be the jewel among his mistresses, maybe even the only one if she proved to be good at pleasing him sexually.

Reluctantly, he covered her up again, but he didn't end the spell as he got up.

"Obliviat…" he began softly, only to be interrupted by the hurried approach of footsteps. "… te," he finished the spell, hoping it would work despite his disrupted speech. She slumped sideways, that was good enough for him.

"Point me!" Harry Potter's voice boomed through the corridors, and Draco's lips thinned in annoyance at being interrupted. He pocketed his wand and walked into towards the back of the darkened room.

Meanwhile, Severus rushed through the corridors without the use of any spell. He simply followed his feet, which led him safely closer to her, he could feel that. He felt like getting closer to a magnet; the pull in his chest indisputable. He didn't pause a second to think about this rather handy side effect of the spell, only intent on getting to her as quickly as possible.

When he heard Potter's voice ahead of him, he nearly broke into a run, so fast had his stride become.

By the time he had reached the small group of Gryffindors, spells were flying at an obviously warded door, and he shouted over the ruckus to get them to stop.

"Cease, you fools!" Snape snarled, coming to stop between the four incensed Gryffindors and the closed door.

He felt his Bonded's presence, and knew for a fact that she was in that room to his left. That her cage she had carried was haphazardly lying on the floor was just another clue. He calmed just by knowing that she was near, but his heart was still beating agitatedly at the possibility that she might be hurt.

"The 'Point Me' spell shows that Hermione is in there. And we are sure that it's Malfoy in there with her," Harry said angrily, his wand still raised and ready to fire.

"Is that so?" the older wizard asked condescendingly, despite secretly agreeing with Potter on Malfoy. He had noticed his student's absence a tad too late, but was convinced that it was anything but coincidence.

He knew, it was now up to him as the Professor to intervene and take over. Severus drew his wand just in case, and stepped in front of the group of damnably righteous Gryffindors.

"Miss Granger, are you in there?" he called and received no answer. His heart skipped a beat, and he swallowed with difficulty.

He didn't mention Draco with one word, knowing he couldn't do much against the son of Malfoy senior without getting into trouble with the Dark Lord. Without one word about Draco's probable presence in the room, Snape began the relatively easy task of disabling the wards on the room. They were stronger than anything taught on the curriculum, but nothing he couldn't deal with.

The room was plunged in darkness, but a simple spell lit the many torches on the walls. What used to be a classroom had at one stage turned into a storage room. Desks and chairs were haphazardly strewn all over the damp and cramped space.

There was no sign of the Slytherin student, which might have had something to do with the back door Severus had just spotted. Instead of following the young man from his own house, he dove into the clutter of furniture to find Hermione.

He wouldn't be surprised to find his bonded with her memory erased. It was standard Death Eater practise, and someone as clever as Draco Malfoy was sure to make sure not to get into trouble that easily.

He heard the Gryffindors behind them, silent for the time being, and allowing him to be in charge.

"Malfoy got away," Harry seethed, pointing to the backdoor.

Ginny and Neville agreed with short nods, but made no move to race after their enemy, which surprised Snape.

"There," Ginny called loudly, having just spotted what Severus saw just a second before her.

He beat the redhead to it, and knelt next to the slumped form of Hermione, who thankfully didn't look injured.

"Stay back," he ordered harshly, sneering unconsciously in disgust at the Gryffindors that were a bit too close for comfort.

Neville and Ginny obeyed quietly, but Harry ignored his teacher's words and sank down on the other side of his friend.

"Potter!" Severus drawled menacingly, feeling the oddest possessiveness for the unconscious young woman.

"You can't shoo me away like an errant dog," Harry said calmly, not deigning to look at his hated teacher.

"I think I can. Now go get some help," Snape hissed, close to pulling Hermione out of reach of Harry's hands that were gently squeezing her shoulder. Even worse was the fact that the younger man traced the gap in her blouse with his eyes, before covering her cleavage back up. He felt almost murderous rage bubble up inside of him at Harry's audacity.

Just when he felt the mad urge to throttle the younger man, he heard more footsteps in the corridor, followed by McGonagall's voice.

"What happened, Severus?"

Before the man had a chance to answer, Harry did it for him, not leaving out his suspicions about Malfoy. Minerva listened with a hardened expression, her eyes more on Snape then Harry. She watched him gently rearrange Hermione's clothing, before picking her up.

Harry just finished his angry report, when Snape finally looked straight at his female colleague.

"Severus? Anything to add?" Minerva asked, after hearing Harry's version of events.

The man in question ignored the shocked glances from the onlookers, who goggled at seeing their friend in the Potions Master's arms.

"The three of them have no proof…," he began coldly, only to be interrupted by a righteous Neville.

"No proof? She is unconscious, and I doubt she did that by herself," Neville said, looking Snape dead in the eye.

If his teacher was surprised by his sudden backbone, he gave nothing away, and simply continued.

"They have no proof of Mr. Malfoy being the perpetrator," he finished.

He knew that Minerva understood that his hands were bound when it came to punishing the students from his own house more often than not. He saw the pinched look Minerva gave him before she nodded slightly in understanding.

To the dismay of the young Gryffindors, their Head-of-House shooed them out into the corridor, leaving the two teachers alone with the still unconscious girl.

"Ennervate," Severus said, and watched the small body in his arms stir, only to look around in puzzlement. She blinked several times, before her eyes found his and her expression turned pleading. What exactly she was pleading for, Severus didn't know, but he his every fibre knew he would likely give her anything she desired.

"I'm here," he croaked almost inaudibly. What was meant to be a soothing whisper, had distorted into an anger-laced rasp, and he held the whimpering female a little tighter.

Severus gazed back down to her still unbuttoned blouse which had opened again after he had picked her up, and grunted harshly, wanting nothing more than to wring Malfoy's neck who had dared to touch her. He was fairly quivering with fury; hatred for the spoilt little brat rolling off of him in waves

It didn't matter that Malfoy hadn't actually hurt her – the fact that he had obviously touched her was enough reason for Severus to contemplate murder.

"Can you stand?" he asked her, knowing he couldn't hold her like this forever. He could still feel Minerva's eyes on him, but was glad for her silence.

"My legs… have fallen a-asleep," she sniffled against his robes, her breath hitching nervously every few seconds. "What happened?"

Severus smiled sadly above her head, her comment confirmed that she knew nothing of what had really transpired. He put her down carefully, making sure to support her to allow the blood to flow back into her legs without falling on her arse.

She didn't look at him, but sagged against him like a sack of potatoes. He could hear her soft sniffles, and cradled her skull in one tender hand, pressing her reassuringly against his chest.

"You probably had an emotional breakdown… Miss Granger," he told her, his voice a pathetic mix of disdain and tenderness. He would have rolled his eyes at himself if there hadn't been any witnesses. He wondered why he lied to her. Her friends would undoubtedly tell her what they suspected, and his lie would be discovered.

At his words, she suddenly drew a sharp breath, and tensed slightly. Before Snape could question her, their almost cosy moment was interrupted.

"Hermione, are you alright? What did Malfoy do?" Harry asked, sending an angry glare at Snape, letting him that he wouldn't keep Hermione in teh drak about what must have happened.

Never had Severus hated Potter's voice more than now. Swallowing his anger, he gently disengaged from Hermione who showed no resistance. He felt oddly saddened by her disinterest of clinging to him for a bit longer, especially since Severus himself found it extremely hard to separate from her.

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked with a puzzled frown. "What are you talking about?" she asked no one in particular, and stared absently off into space.

Fixing a scowl on his face, Severus pulled a meekly following Hermione back into the corridor where her friends swarmed around them, only to quickly dislodge her wrist from Severus hand. It took some effort on Severus' part not to snatch it back with a possessive snarl. He frowned at his own thoughts, not sure if this development was a good one. Being overly protective was one thing; being obstinately possessive was another.

"Miss Granger?" Minerva addressed the girl now, who slowly noticed that she was being addressed again. "What happened in there?"

"I don't know, but I can't remember anyone being in there with me," Hermione said with a straight face, her voice oddly bland. Only Severus cocked his head thoughtfully at the shortness of her answer, and the way she talked.

"As you seem unharmed, I'd suggest you come with me, my dear. We can talk a bit over a cup of tea. What do you say?" Minerva offered, now the recipient of a confused and reproachful glare from her dour colleague.

Hermione would have rather gone with Snape, but knew it would be impossible to voice that wish with all her friends about. She also wanted to use the chance to make things up to her Head-of-House after being so rude to her in the infirmary.

She gave a shy and somewhat distracted nod, sending an apologetic smile in Snape's direction, and almost grinned at his nearly sulking expression.

"Very well, then. Hermione, please follow me. Your friends will surely bring all your presents to the Common room," Minerva said, and made to usher her students away.

"Erm, could you bring them into the infirmary instead?" Hermione asked nicely, getting understanding nods from her friends.

"Oh yes, I forgot that you now inhabit Poppy's domain," Minerva acknowledged and sent the other students away. Only then did she notice the remaining person.

"Severus? Do you have anything against me talking to Miss Granger?" she asked pointedly, a little sarcasm showing in her tone.

Hermione didn't like that but bit her tongue. It wouldn't do to clash with the woman yet again, before even resolving their last argument.

Snape said nothing but sneered loftily at the older witch.

Hermione smiled at him again, wanting to reassure him of her continued esteem for him. He was her Bonded, after all, and no one could mean more to her than him. She didn't dare say anything of the sort so publicly, though.

"Oh, Professor Snape?" she asked hurriedly. "My owl seems to have disappeared, but I'm sure he is nearby," she said to him.

He simply nodded, watching the two women walk down the corridor, followed by the other Gryffindors. When Hermione turned at the last second to smile at him over her shoulder before disappearing behind a corner, he felt his own lips twitch upwards. He immediately scowled as he realised what he was doing, and went in search for the bird.

"Accio owl," he called softly, and quickly caught the immobilised bird as it soared towards him. "Great, I get to take care of the stiff bird," he sneered, and made to walk to his quarters. He was relieved that no one had noticed the frozen body of the owl before, or questions would have been asked.

After just two steps Severus saw something peek from behind a suit of armour. He unceremoniously stuffed the frozen owl under his armpit to pick up the white parchment. In the same process he saw one of Hermione's presents that the others must have missed.

He straightened and regarded the present and what turned out to be a letter from her parents. He flew over a few lines before sighing. He would read the rest in his quarters, hoping Hermione wouldn't be angry with him for doing so.

With a snarl, he set off to his rooms – a stiff owl under one arm, and a colourfully-wrapped present and a letter in the other. He felt horribly undignified.


End file.
